


Say My Name and Say It Twice (Cotton Candy Skies)

by ghosttotheparty



Category: SKAM (Netherlands), WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort, Family Dynamics, Found Family, Jens does ballet, M/M, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, Soft Boys, and lucas is an artist/photographer, blushy jens, ill add more tags as i figure stuff out, jens is a good brother, lotte has autism, lucas is Bold, tagged mature for later chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 82,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24387436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghosttotheparty/pseuds/ghosttotheparty
Summary: Not even Robbe knows. Robbe, who knows close to everything about Jens, save for a few things, including what the fuck he does on Thursdays.It's not that he's ashamed or embarrassed, he's not.But really, he'd rather his friends see him in a hoodie and on a skateboard than in pink tights holding on to a barre.
Relationships: Jens Stoffels/Lucas van der Heijden
Comments: 181
Kudos: 362





	1. Thursdays

The truth is, none of Jens's friends knows what happens on Thursdays. 

They'd stopped pestering him years ago (although they started for a bit again when Aaron joined the group), and it just became accepted as one of his Things, one of his trademarks. Toothpaste, greasy food, and the fact that he fucks off to God-knows-where every Thursday after school are some of the things he's known for within the group.

Not even Robbe knows. Robbe, who knows close to everything about Jens, save for a few things, including what the fuck he does on Thursdays. 

It's not that he's ashamed or embarrassed, he's not.

But really, he'd rather his friends see him in a hoodie and on a skateboard than in pink tights, holding on to a barre.

So yeah. 

Every Thursday, Jens the skater becomes Jens the ballerina, like some sort of superhero transformation. That's why he declines to hang out with the Broerrrs after school, even if there's the promise of cute girls wherever they plan on going. (Jens never tells them that there are plenty of cute girls where he goes, too.) (Not that he ever actually checks them out; he's too busy keeping track of the music.)

None of the other dancers go to his school, and none of them live in his neighbourhood, so he never worries too much about someone coming up and greeting him when he's out with his friends. Just to take precautions, though, he had told his friends, the few he had at the studio, "If you see me in public, don't greet me," and they'd laughed, but shook his hand as a deal. Thursday dance practise is a secret.

Of course, he didn't only practise on Thursdays. He'd gotten a barre installed in his room when he was fourteen, and coincidentally, that was around the time he'd begun making excuses for his friends not to come over until it became another unspoken agreement: they don't hang out at Jens's. He supposed he could have said it was Lotte's, but that wouldn't have explained it being in his room. He'd decided not to risk anything. 

Jens has thought of ways to tell the about the ballet.  
1) Just invite them over and when they ask about the barre ("Why do you have one of those ballet things in your room?"), just tell them ("Because I do ballet.").  
2) Stage it like a coming out. ("I have to tell you guys something.") (Jens will have to do that too, he figures, eventually, but that's a problem for another day.)  
3) Invite them to a recital. Tell them to dress nicely, actually nicely, and tell them where to go at what time. Jens likes this choice the best. It was mysterious, cryptic, maybe a little weird, and maybe he should have them see him actually performing, instead of letting their imaginations wander to little girls in pink slippers and skirts upon hearing the words "I do ballet."

He still hasn't done it, of course. Three recitals have gone past since he came up with the idea, and truth be told, every time he walks out of the theatre, bouquet from his mother in hand, face almost covered in stage makeup, he is absolutely terrified that he'd going to walk into one of them. There's always a text message the night of a performance, an excuse to not chill with them:  
Sorry, I can't I have to babysit Lotte  
I'm just gonna take it easy tonight  
Can't, my mom needs me  
a heavy pit in his stomach every time, like one of them is going to call him out on his bullshit. But luckily, the recitals weren't on a tight schedule and were spread out enough on the calendar that none of them noticed a pattern.

After practise, he always changed into jeans or sweatpants and a hoodie, his tights and two pairs of slippers stuffed deep in his duffle bag, under an extra hoodie and his water bottle. He knows that even with all evidence of ballet hidden in his bag, it'll still be hard to explain him standing outside a dance studio, talking to people still in dance attire, and carrying a bag if one of his friends (or worse, someone from school who definitely won't keep it a secret) were to see him.

It's rare that he doesn't completely change into street clothes after practice.

But tonight, with Moyo's drunken texts, and everybody's Instagram stories full of flashing lights, plastic cups, and music so loud you can barely understand the lyrics, Jens figures it's safe.

He throws a hoodie over his long-sleeved leotard and runs a hand through his hair absentmindedly before pulling socks on over his tights and slipping on his sneakers. Standing, the hoodie reaches his mid-thigh, and he tugs it down when it hikes up as he pulls his bag over his head. After pulling his pointe slippers on his bag, he makes his way to the exit, putting a thin gold hoop through his ear lobe. He always takes it out before practice, not wanting it to get caught on a girl's tights.

The air is cool outside, enough that he shivers slightly in his thin tights. He scans the sky for a second, admiring the pastel blue and pink, the kind of colours he'd see at a baby shower, before pulling his phone out of his pocket. There's a text from his mother, "On my way," sent a minute beforehand. He runs a hand through his hair again before shoving both hands into the pocket of his hoodie, shrugging the cold off his shoulders. 

"Jens!" 

He startles at Damien's voice and then makes his way to where he's standing, leaning against the wall of the studio building. Damien is a sweetheart; he'd offered to hide Jens if he sees any of his friends after practice. And he could. Damien is bigger than one would expect a ballerina to be, but the way he picks up the girls in practise and tosses them looks almost effortless. 

"Hey." Jens bumps his shoulder against Lena's, who is standing facing Damien. 

"Fucker." She turns and hits him, a reaction possibly a little dramatic for his greeting, Jens thought, but he giggles and shoves her hand away anyway.

"All's good?" Jens asks as he holds his hand out to Rosa. 

"Yeah, you?" She slaps their palms together and their fingers hook for a second before they both let go.

"Yeah."

This is the four of them: Damien, Lena, Rosa, Jens: a group of assorted souls that only match in the studio.

"You're going out tonight?" Rosa asks Lens, jerking her chin up at her. 

"Yeah, what makes you ask?"

Rosa points at her face first, before looking her up and down and pointing at the rest of her. Lena usually didn't put her makeup on, her big, winged eyeliner, black lipstick, and thick, heavy-looking false eyelashes, nor did she get dressed, with her fishnets and all her ripped fabric, after practice, unless she planned on going out. 

"Right."

They all laugh, Damien a little too loudly, like always. It's part of his charm.

Jens straightens his back, his arm lifting off of Rosa's shoulder, and stretches, groaning quietly.

"You good? Tough practice?" Damien asks, amused. He was supposed to help Jens stretch today, and he may have pushed him harder than usual. 

Jens groans again, lifting his middle finger to Damien, who snickers.

"I'm out of here," Rosa says, looking up from her phone. She blows a stray curl out of her face. 

"You don't love us anymore?" Jens asks innocently, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. She snorts, digging her fingers into his sides, and he yelps, pushing her back.

"My brother's here, idiot." She kisses Damien's cheek, stretching up as he bends down, and does a handshake with Lena. "See you next week."

They wave as she skips down the sidewalk and gets into a car. 

"Damien, you should ask her out," Lena says loudly and flatly as the car drives out of sight. Jens can't help but agree. Damien and Rosa have been dancing around their feelings for each other for years. (Pun intended.)

"She doesn't like me like that," Damien replied, exasperated.

"She just kissed your cheek." Jens looked at him, equally exasperated. 

"But-"

"Just do it, dipshit," Lena interrupts, smacking his shoulder.

"If I came here just for you guys to harass me..." He trails off as they laugh and glances at his phone as it buzzes. "Actually, I do have to go, I have to watch my brother tonight."

Lena grunts in disgust and holds her hand out to him. He takes it and lets go, bumping their fists together, before turning to Jens. They do the same.

"Later, buddy." He watches as Damien walks away, his ballet slippers swinging from his bag with every step.

"If they don't figure their shit out soon, I'm gonna come up with a scheme," Lena says after a second. 

Jens snorts, elbowing her, and faces forward again. He catches sight of a teenage boy leaning against the wall of the convenience store outside the studio. He must have been hidden by Damien's form because Jens doesn't remember seeing him there before. 

For a moment, his heart drops to his stomach in a panic, thinking it's one of the guys or someone from school, but when the boy lifts his head from looking at a camera he's holding, Jens calms, not recognising him.

They make eye contact, Jens and this boy, and Jens feels like his heart rate picks up and slows down at the same time. His eyes are blue, and intense blue, blue like Jens has never seen it, and one of them is covered partially by a lock of curly hair. They stare at each other for so long it's beginning to be weird, even though it doesn't feel weird.

"Is your mom coming to get you?" Lena's voice startles him out of his trance, and he looks at her, breaking his eye contact with the boy. 

"Yeah, if she ever comes." He pulls his phone out of his pocket to see if there are any notifications (there are none), feeling the boy's eyes burn into him.

"You know I can always give you a ride home," Lena says, oblivious to the feelings ripping through Jens's body. She holds up the keys to her motorcycle, dangling them between herself and Jens.

"No, thanks," he says. It's suddenly difficult to talk.

"Don't know if you're scared or if that's your 'no friends outside the studio' rude." 

"Hm." They narrow their eyes at each other, teasing. 

Their staring contest is broken when Lena's phone buzzes, and she fishes it out of her pocket. Jens glances at the boy when she does. He's looking down at his camera.

"Well, you won't be getting a ride anyway, because that's Elsa." She sticks her phone back in her pocket. "I gotta go." 

"You love your girlfriend more than me?" Jens feigns hurt.

"Yes." 

"Oh, okay." He holds out his hand and they shake, bumping their fists together. She leans in and presses her cheek to his. 

"See you next week," he says.

"Bye, babe." 

As she walks away, Jens turns to look at the boy with the camera. He's looking at him too, a slight smile on his face. They stare at each other for what feels like both hours and seconds until the boy slowly lifts his camera and points it at Jens. Jens tries to suppress his smile, but can't, and it creeps across his face until he's practically beaming, and the camera flashes. The boy lowers the camera, looking at the screen, and looks back up, flashing Jens a grin and a thumbs-up.

Jens shoots him a wink and looks away as his phone buzzes, pulling it out of his pocket, seeing a text from his mom. 

"I see you" 

He looks around and catches sight of her car just across the street. Putting his phone back in his pocket, he sends the boy one more smile and makes his way to the car, suddenly self-conscious in his tights as he jogs across the street.

As they drive away, Jens sees the boy look back down at the camera.


	2. All Yours

Lucas does love his friends, he does.

But if anything, he feels more real in Antwerp. More like him and less like a statue of him. Not that he doesn’t feel safe or loved with his friends, of course he does, but walking around Antwerp with just a camera and camera bag in hand, he feels more like he can do anything. He’s not afraid of bumping into people he knows, not afraid of people recognizing him. 

He’s started wearing rings, necklaces. He’s grown his hair out, into actual curls that fall down the back of his neck instead of halfway across his forehead like some sort of pathetic fringe. He’s painted his fucking nails, for God’s sake, even if most of them are just clear polish, blue and orange covering his left pinky and index fingernails, he feels bold. Unstoppable.

Maybe Noah has something to do with it. Noah, who somehow Lucas has been talking to more than Kes, Isa, and Jayden. Noah, who Lucas ran into in an art supply store two weeks before he left. Noah, who Lucas trusts enough to become one of three people in Utrecht that knows about him. Lucas had told him the third time they’d hung out, told him about his _former _hopeless crush on Kes, and sworn him to secrecy. (Noah had pretended to lock his lips, drop the key in his mug, and drink it.) After enough conversations, Noah had been able to change his mindset completely. “You can paint your nails and be masculine. You can paint your nails and be feminine. You can do whatever the fuck you want, and you can be whatever the fuck you want. Just don’t be a poser.” Lucas had laughed.__

__Ralph also knows. Lucas told his over a cup of coffee too, and even though he knows Ralph would be supportive if he told him he was moving to fucking Antarctica, he was still scared. Ralph had squealed and clapped when he said it, and Lucas had smiled, but when Lucas began to cry, Ralph scooted his chair over to him and held him while he told Ralph he was scared. Scared of what he saw in the news, scared of what he saw in the streets. Scared to look gay, scared to _be _gay. Ralph had held his head close to his chest, combing his fingers through his curls like his mother did when he was little. Ralph whispered to him quietly. “It’s scary. It is. But it’s not your fault. You’re not the problem. They are. You just have to live, okay?” Lucas has taken “to live” to heart. He’s done just surviving. Ralph gave him a little rainbow enamel pin and a kiss on the forehead before he left. (The pin now lives on the strap of his camera bag.)___ _

____And his mother knows. Lucas had had a full-blown panic attack in his room before telling her, but she claimed she already knew. (Which, of course, wasn’t the reaction he’d expected, nor was it the reaction he’d wanted, but he’ll take what he can get.) While he cried, she’d reassured him that God loves him. And he’d cried harder. “God loves you and whoever you love,” she’d said, “and I do, too.” There were tears in her eyes, too._ _ _ _

____He’d never doubted that she loves him. She made it clear she did. She got him his camera, she’d bought all the art supplies he needed. She’d bring home “surprises” when he was little, usually stacks of printer paper from her office, or a new marker set. He’d just worried that maybe God wouldn’t love him. That his mom would gently tell him to repent, would send him to a camp because she wanted the best for him. The possibilities were endless. The day after he came out to her, Lucas had gone to Ralph’s to tell him, and they’d celebrated. Lucas felt loved._ _ _ _

____After coming out to her, their relationship went back to the way it was when he was a kid before he realised he’s gay. They’d started having movie night every weekend, started cooking together. Lucas told her he used to like Kes, and she’d giggled like a schoolgirl. There were no secrets between them. And everything was fine._ _ _ _

____Until all that shit happened._ _ _ _

____The shit that landed her in an institute and him forced to make the choice between staying with his father in Utrecht or moving to a completely different city in a completely different country, with a cousin he hadn’t seen since he was eight. He’d chosen the cousin in a heart-beat, _obviously. _____ _ _

______When he’d gone to say goodbye to her, she was laying in bed, covered in crisp, white sheets, looking up at him through dripping eyes, scared like a child. “You’ll call me, won’t you?” “Of course, mama.” “Promise?” He’d taken her hands between his and held them to her heart. “Promise.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______He’d walked out of the building with her wedding ring around his ring finger. The ring she’d told him, she only kept because his name was engraved in it. “What about you?” he’d asked, He had her ring now, but that did that leave her with? She’d patted her belly, and although he didn’t know if she was referring to her stretch marks or the c-section scar, he’d laughed tearfully with her._ _ _ _ _ _

______The ring he often forgets about, unable to feel it on his finger after he got used to it. But he still twists it when he gets nervous or anxious._ _ _ _ _ _

______Like now._ _ _ _ _ _

______He’s leaning against the wall of the convenience store, headphones on, music blasting, twisting the ring quickly. (He’d texted his mom the night she’d given it to him that it fit him perfectly. Loose enough to twist easily, but not so loose he had to worry about it falling off.) The sky is soft, everything he could see washed in a golden-pink light. For a moment, he regrets not bringing his camera with him._ _ _ _ _ _

______He stands up straight when the doors to the studio building open. This is the seventh time he’s stood here at this hour, hoping the pretty boy in tights would make his way to the door. Not that Lucas would tell anyone._ _ _ _ _ _

______His hope starts to fade now, as the stream of dancers slows down, longer gaps of time between the door shutting behind someone and opening for someone else. He analyzes everyone’s face. None of them is him._ _ _ _ _ _

______What if he doesn’t come weekly? What if he only comes once a month or something? What if last week was a one-time thing and Lucas never sees him again? The questions swirl around in Lucas’s mind as he cranes his neck slightly, still searching._ _ _ _ _ _

______Then, by some miraculous sort of divine intervention, the swings open almost a full minute after being close, and he walks out._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Fuck. ____ _ _ _ _ _

________He’s fucking gorgeous._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Lucas takes his headphones off, sliding them around his neck, a smile creeping across his face. The boy is talking to a girl who Lucas recognises from last week. She’s missing the dark, almost theatrical makeup, but her dark red hair is hard to miss. They’re both laughing, the boy shoving the girl to the side, and she kicks him, throwing her leg up high so it hits his shoulder. He pretends to grab at it, and she drops her leg, scrambling backwards and omitting a “No!” loud enough that bystanders turn to look. He hushes her, his eyes wide with amusement, and Lucas smiles._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________He doesn’t feel like approaching him yet, not with his friend right there, even though he’s been longing to just see him since last week, So he waits, watching, trying not to look creepy by pulling out his phone and holding it in front of himself. He pauses his music, realising he left it playing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________They go back to fighting, the girl throwing punches, missing, and the boy managing to hook his arm around her neck in a faux chokehold._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Other dancers around them watch before rolling their eyes and looking away, and Lucas laughs to himself. After a few seconds, the girl breaks away, shoving the boy away and kicking his back for good measure. They exchange a few words, soaked in laughter, that Lucas can’t hear, and after a minute, Lucas becomes anxious again, wondering if they might leave together. Maybe they’re dating, he thinks, his heart dropping. He keeps watching them, his fingertips tapping his knuckles, torn between waiting a bit longer to see if she leaves, like last time, and missing his chance if they leave together._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Lucas looks away, down the road, sighing, before looking back. The girl is looking at her phone, holding the boy away from her with her other hand. After a second she says something to him, sticking her phone in the pocket of her jacket, and shakes his hand. She punches him one more time before making her way down the street, and he flips her off as she waves._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Lucas watches as the boy looks down, pulling his phone out of his pocket and adjusting the strap of his bag. He looks like he could be waiting for someone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Now or never._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Lucas takes a deep breath before making his way down the sidewalk. He passes in front of an alleyway, glancing down it to make sure no cars or bikes are coming. He’s still twisting his ring as the boy gets closer, and he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Up close, Lucas could see that there’s a mole right next to his eye, a detail that doesn’t show up in the photo he’d taken last week,_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Fuck. The photo. What if he thinks it was super weird? What if he was creeped out by it? But the way he smiled… Lucas has never taken a photo of a smile like that. It looks real. Genuine. Honest. Maybe he doesn’t think it was that weird._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The thought of it pushes Lucas forward until he’s standing right next to him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Hi.” His voice is small. The boy startles and lifts his head, looking at Lucas. His eyes are a rich brown, his lashes dark. And Lucas’s stomach feels like it goes through a whole gymnastics routine as the boy smiles slowly, recognition sparking in his expression._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Hey.” His voice matches his eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________They stare at each other for a second, much like they did last week._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“I was hoping you’d be here today,” Lucas says, rocking back on his feet as he takes in the boy’s face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Every Thursday,” he responds, still smiling._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Yeah?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Mm-hmm.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Good to know.” Lucas hopes he sounds bolder than he feels. The boy tucks his phone into his pocket, facing Lucas completely. His hoodie is a light cream colour, his jacket a dark brown, almost matching his hair. (Which looks ridiculously soft. Lucas _doesn’t _think about combing his fingers through the mess.)___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“What’s up?” the boy asks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Lucas takes a breath before answering. This is really happening._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Nothing. Just wondered if you wanted to hang out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The boy’s smile takes over his face again and Lucas stares at it._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah, for sure.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Unless someone is coming to get you,” Lucas adds uncertainly, almost interrupting him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“My mom just told me I’m on my own tonight, so… I’m all yours.” Lucas notices the boy’s cheeks become pink and he has to suppress another smile. “What were you thinking about doing?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Uhm…” Lucas pauses before reaching into his back pocket and pulling out a joint. “Yeah?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah.” The boy tilts his head to the side quickly, beckoning him. Lucas follows as he leads him to the alleyway. Most of the dancers are gone by now, the street quiet. “I’m Jens, by the way.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________Jens. _ ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __

____________It feels like the sky opens up around him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Lucas.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________“Where are you from?” The boy, _Jens _, turns into the alley, dropping his bag to the ground and jumps up onto the dumpster. Lucas watches as he brushes his hands in front of himself before sticking the joint in his mouth and copying him. After brushing his hands off, he takes it out of his mouth and answers, realising Jens has been watching him.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Utrecht.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Ah.” Jens watches as Lucas pulls a lighter out of his pocket and lights the joint, blocking it from the breeze. “That explains the accent.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Right. Lucas forgets how he sounds different to everyone around him. To him, Jens is the one with a cute accent._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Lucas takes a drag, nodding, and holds it out to Jens as he exhales. Jens (and everything else, but Lucas is only looking at Jens) is covered in pink, like God put a pair of rose-coloured glasses on the sun._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“How long have you been in Antwerp?” Jens asks, turning to look at him, pulling a leg up in front of himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Just a few weeks. I moved in with my cousin.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Mm. Trouble at home?” Jens leans forward and passes the joint to him. Their fingers brush together and it’s like he just touched a live wire. He sighs, tilting his head back and forth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“You could say that.” He lifts the joint to his mouth, feeling Jens watching. “How long have you lived in Antwerp?” he asks, changing the subject._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“All my life.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Same house, same everything?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Yup.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Sounds boring.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Jens snorts, looking at him. Lucas is on _ _fire. _ _____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __

________________“It was.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________By the time the joint burns down, the sky is a glowing kind of dark blue. Lucas finds out that Jens has been dancing since he was a kid, that his little sister is going to start next year. He learns that Jens is good at math but despises history. “The only things I can memorise are combinations and routines.” Lucas tells him he’ll do his history homework if Jens does his math. It’s a deal. They shake on it. (And Lucas feels like he’ll be shaking for the rest of time.)_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________Lucas tells him he’s been into art and photography for years but only really started about a year or so ago. Jens asks if he still has the picture he took of him last week._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“Of course, how could I get rid of my only picture of my model?” he says, realising that they’re flirting._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________“We can take a better picture next week.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Next week. _ _Lucas feels like his soul is smiling.__ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __

__________________“Thursday evening photoshoot?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________“Perfect.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________Jens giggles and Lucas thinks it might be his favourite sound in the world._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________That night, his cousin asks how his day went. Lucas tells him he wandered the city, taking pictures on his phone, which is true. He thinks about telling him about Jens, but doesn’t._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________He wants to keep this for himself for now._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please let me know if you have any ideas/suggestions!!  
> and if I messed up with grammar or anything like that feel free to let me know :)


	3. Better Now

“I’m all yours”?

Who the fuck says that to someone they just met?

Although, Lucas didn’t seem to mind the statement, even if it was a little weird. Jens had almost made a face at himself, almost apologized, but every sense of embarrassment disappeared when Lucas’s smile widened. _Fuck _, that smile.__

__Jens has been thinking about it all week. Really he’s been thinking about Lucas all week, everything about him. It’s like Jens took a picture of him with his mind. Or several pictures. Jens remembers _everything _. The way his hair fell in his face, the way he pushed it back to look at Jens. The polish on his nails that shined as the sunlight hit it. The silver rings on his fingers, the Jens noticed he twisted sometimes. The striped shirt that peeked out from under the dark hoodie that he wore, a hoodie that looked a size or two too big. The necklaces that hung down from his neck (which Jens didn’t stare at when he wasn’t looking), a few chains and one with a key. The ripped jeans that clung to his legs (which Jens _definitely _didn’t stare at when he wasn’t looking)._____ _

______Jens thinks about him almost every second of every day. It’s like his name is stuck in his head._ _ _ _ _ _

_______Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas, Lucas… ____ _ _ _ _ _

________His name and his eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Those fucking eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Jens would compare them to the sky or the sea but really no words could do them justice. Jens stared into them for so long that night that they were engraved into his mind, which Jens was fine with._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Jens finds himself smiling randomly during the day, even at school in the middle of conversations and lessons, remembering those eyes. Or something Lucas said that night. Or just remembering Lucas exists. The guys all ask what’s up, why he’s suddenly grinning to himself, and he tells them he’s thinking about something Lotte said that morning, or a meme. He considers spilling everything right there, the ballet, the bisexuality, and the boy. But he doesn’t. He’s kept dance a secret for so long. He wants to keep Lucas a secret for a little longer too._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Although, he thinks, if everything goes the way he hopes it does, he won’t be able to for much longer. If Lucas feels the same way, which as much as Jens hopes he does and suspects he does, he can’t bring himself to believe, maybe Jens will be okay with everyone knowing everything. Maybe he won’t have to hide anymore._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________But that isn’t happening yet. They’ve only hung out once (for hours), and Jens doesn’t even know his last name. Or his phone number, which Jens wants more than anything._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________To be honest, Jens doesn’t really know what it is about Lucas that makes him feel like this. No one’s ever made him feel like this, feel so… whatever it is. He feels like he trusts Lucas, strangely, despite meeting him only once. Lucas knows about the ballet, knows everything about the ballet, and Jens is fine with it. Fine with Lucas knowing things about him that his closest friends don’t. Fine with it, and comfortable with it, really. Talking about ballet was easy with Lucas. (Unless he made direct eye contact with him. If that happened, all bets were off and his mouth forgot how to speak.) He wasn’t shy about it. And Lucas saw him in pink tights for fuck’s sake, what was talking about dance compared to that?_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Jens doesn’t wear his pink tights today. But he also doesn’t change out of his practise clothes. He keeps on his black leggings, sliding his red hoodie and oversized jacket before putting in an earring as he talks to Damien._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Guess who has to watch their brother again?” Damien says harshly, pulling a shirt on._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Ew, why?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“My parents are going on a date-”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Cute.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“-and apparently my other brother isn’t mature enough to hold down the fort.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Wait, you have two brothers?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Damien freezes, a hand on the door of his locker, and stares at Jens in disbelief._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Where exactly have you been for the past four years?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________Jens shrugs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Under a rock, I guess.”He pulls the strap of his bag over his after tugging his shoes on. On the way to the door, he pauses and smooths his hair down. When it doesn’t work, he fluffs it back up again, turning his head and analyzing it in the reflection._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Who are you trying to look good for?” Damien approaches his shoulder, clutching his bag to his chest. Jens sighs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“Your mom.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________“ _Oh _-kay.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You should ask Rosa to hang out with you while you watch your brother,” Jens says, changing the subject. He hasn’t told Damien, or Lena or Rosa, about Lucas. He opens the door, standing out of the way so Damien can get past._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Thanks.” Damien waits for his outside as another dancer passes through the door Jens is holding open. “And no thanks, I don’t think she’ll want to.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I think she’d be down for anything if you’ll be there.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________They make their way down the steps and to the main door, squeezing past the jazz dancers getting ready for practice. Another ballerina is holding the door open, and they both thank her as they pass. Outside the skies are mostly clear, clouds scattered in the horizon._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Boys!” Lena jumps on Jens’s back and he catches her legs so she doesn’t fall. “How we doing?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You’re in a good mood,” Damien notes as she slides down, landing on her feet and keeping an arm around Jens’s neck. Rosa rolls her eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“She’s been talking nonstop since practice ended. I think she’s high.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I am not,” Lena says, pointing at her. “But! I have a date tonight and it’s gonna be fun.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Why do you go on dates on Thursday?” Damien asks as he steps out of the way so a girl can pass. “Doesn’t it make more sense to go out on Fridays? Then you can stay out later.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Oh, baby Damien…” She lets go of Jens (he straightens his back from bending over) and pats Damien’s cheeks, holding his face. “No one said I have to sleep.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah, but-” Jens stops listening._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He looks to the sides, outside the convenience store, hoping to see a certain curly-haired Dutch boy, to no avail. Jens looks around, craning his neck slightly to see into the alleyway, and scans the sidewalk on the other side of the street. He doesn’t see Lucas._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________He looks back at his friends, worrying. Maybe Lucas forgot. Or maybe he changed his mind. Jens’s heart sinks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Anyway, I’ve got to get ready for my Thursday night date,” Lena’s voice cuts into his thoughts. She emphasizes “Thursday night,” cutting an intense look to Damien. “I gotta go.” She hugs Rosa and Damien and turns to Jens, holding her hand out._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“You okay?” she asks as he grabs it, pulling her in so their shoulders bump. Her eyebrows are turned up, worried._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Yeah, I’m good. I’m tired, I didn’t eat much before practice.” He’s gotten good at lying on the spot._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Ah.” She smacks the back of his hand before turning away. “Fill up that belly, my friend. Bye, guys!” And she’s gone._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“I have to watch my brother tonight,” Damien says, sighing as he checks the time on his watch._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________“Ugh, that sucks.” Rosa looks at him sympathetically. “I’m so glad my parents don’t make me watch mine anymore, he’s a nightmare.” She looks down at her phone, responding to a text, and Jens catches Damien’s eye over her head. _Fucking ask her _, he mouths. Damien shakes his head. _I swear to God _. Jens’s eyes widen, making a threat. What exactly he’s threatening he doesn’t know, but it seems to work._____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Rosa, do you want to come over?” Damien’s face darkens as she looks up at him. “It’ll be with my brother so we’ll probably just watch a movie, but I can make pizza. Or something,” he finished awkwardly._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Yeah, that sounds fun!” She sends the text and looks at Jens. “You’re coming?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“No, I’ve got something,” he answers, smiling._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“Oh, okay.” She reaches up for a hug and Jens embraces her, holding his hand up in an “okay” sign behind her back for Damien to see. Damien grins._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“I’ll see you next week!” She waves as she and Damien walk away. Jens watched them go, smiling when Rosa’s shoulder bumps into Damien, and he pulls out his phone to send a text to Lena._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________Rosa and Damien: ✔ ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________He looks up as two blue check marks appear ar his message, glancing around to see if he can see Lucas anywhere. When he doesn’t, he looks back at his phone to see Lena’s messages._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________WHAT _  
_ARE _  
_YOU _  
_TALKING _  
_ABOUT ____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________He laughs, typing._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________________Chill, they’re just hanging out ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________He pauses and adds another message._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________________________Watching Damien’s brother ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Before Lena sends her message, something bumps Jens’s shoulder and he looks up, startles, into those eyes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Hey.” Lucas sounds out of breath and his cheeks are pink._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Hi.” Jens steps back, looking him up and down. He’s wearing an old sweater, that one could call a grandpa sweater, and black jeans. He’s got on the same necklaces as last time, but now the strap of camera bag is around his neck, too. Jens’s eyes pause for half a second at a rainbow pin on it before looking back up into his eyes, which get smaller as he smiles._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________He looks the way fresh paint smells._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Fucking intoxicating._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“I was wondering where you were,” Jens says after taking a breath. He slides his phone into his pocket._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Sorry, I got a little lost on the way here.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I just ran down the street,” he says, pointing behind himself with a thumb when Jens raises his eyebrows._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Just for me?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Of course, who else?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Jens grins._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“I brought the weed today, by the way.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Ah, hell yeah.” Lucas turns, beckoning him toward the alley. “You have to sit in the light.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Why?” Jens asks, confused, and Lucas turns, walking backwards, and hold up the camera case, smiling mischievously. Jens grins as he digs the joint out of the front pocket of his bag._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Silently, the two of them lift themselves onto the dumpster. Lucas slips as he gets up, and Jens is already reaching out to catch him when he catches himself. Jens’s face burns._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“How was practice?” Lucas asks as Jens lights the joint. Jens looks at him, surprised, although he doesn’t know why, and he tucks the lighter back into his bag, which he had tossed behind himself._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Good.” Lucas raises his eyebrows and nods, gesturing with his hand for him to keep going. “I’m fucking tired.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“You do pointe, right?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Jens nods as he takes another drag._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Yeah, how’d you know?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“I saw your shoes the first time I saw you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Right.” He looks away, feeling like there’s a wildfire burning in his chest._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Heard it’s difficult.” Lucas reaches out for the joint and Jens passes it to him. Their fingers brush._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“It is. Very.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Respect.” Lucas holds the joint up like he’s giving a toast before bringing to his lips, and Jens can’t help but watch his cheeks hollow as he inhales. And then he forces himself to look away._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“How’s your day going?” he asks after a few beats of silence._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Good. Better now.” Jens’s face turns pink. There’s a pause. “My dad called earlier.” Lucas is making a face when Jens turns to look._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Gross.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Lucas’s laugh is something made of magic._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“What did he say?” Jens asks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Nothing good. Or interesting.” Lucas holds the joint out and Jens is struck with sudden boldness. He grabs Lucas’s hand, his fingers under Lucas’s, gently, and leans forward to examine his nails. They’re all shirt, a few of them painted a dark blue-green, the others natural and shiny. Pretty._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“I like your nails.” He lifts his hand and takes the joint, looking at Lucas, whose eyes are slightly wide._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Yeah?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Mm-hmm.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________He lifts it to his mouth, leaning back on his hand, and takes a slow drag, his heart beating fast, but feeling more at ease than he’s felt all week. And he doesn’t think it’s just the weed._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“I like this,” Lucas’s voice says._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________He starts to turn but stops when he sees Lucas’s hand come close to his face, and feels his earring gently._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“You do?” he asks, feeling like he could start screaming._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Yeah, it’s…” Lucas trails off and retracts his hand, placing it on his camera, which Jens hadn’t seen him take out of the bag._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“It’s…” Jens bobs his head at him and Lucas suppresses a smile._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Hot.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Complete anarchy fills his head, complete with screaming, sirens, flashing lights._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Ah.” He grins and turns away again, taking a drag._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Here, do something.” Lucas pulls his legs up in front of himself, crossing them, and points the camera at him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Like what?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“I don’t fucking know, anything.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Jens swings a leg up in front of himself and lets the other dangle as he takes one more drag. He drops his hands in front of his lap, opening his mouth and letting the smoke drift around his face. He hears the camera click several times._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________He hears a very quiet “Yeah…” and grins behind the smoke. Lucas lowers the camera, looking at the screen, and then looks up, giving Jens thumbs up._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Good?” Jens asks._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Yeah.” Lucas raises the camera again, leaning back slightly. “Do something else.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Jens lifts the leg that’s in front of him so his knee is upright, and brings the joint back up, holding it between his lips as he puts his forearm on his knee and rests his chin on his arm. He watches as Lucas’s lips curve into a smile behind the camera as it snaps again._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________The camera lowers and Lucas looks at the pictures, Jens stares as his face, fully appreciating the freckles scattered across his skin like stars, the mole above his mouth, his lashes that spread like a fan. A curl falls, obstructing Jens’s view, and he has to hold back from reaching out and pushing it out of the way._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Look.” Lucas uncrosses his legs and uses them to push himself so he’s sitting next to Jens, whose heart feels like it might beat out of his chest. Lucas’s shoulder is touching Jens’s. Jens doesn’t move away. Lucas holds the camera up, showing Jens the first photos with the smoke covering his face. Jens takes the weed out of his mouth, holding it so the side so the smoke isn’t being blown into Lucas’s face._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“If I edit it so the focus is on you, like if I blur the background, it’ll look really cool, don’t you think?” Lucas looks up at Jens, who isn’t even really looking at the photo._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________“Yeah, for sure.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________Lucas smiles and turns back to the camera. Jens holds the joint up in front of him, offering, and Lucas looks at it before leaning forward and taking it between his lips. Jens’s eyes widen and he pulls his hand away, letting Lucas hold it in his mouth ( _Oh my God oh my God oh my God _) and then Lucas tilts his head up, his eyes still looking at the camera as he analyzes the other photos, and Jens reaches up, taking it, and scoffs lightly.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“I had a history test this week,” he says, trying to ease his body temperature._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“Yeah? How’d it go?” Lucas turns so he’s facing Jens, putting distance between them, and Jens’s side suddenly feels cold._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“How do you think?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________Lucas makes a face, a comical grimace, and Jens laughs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“Yeah, exactly.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“I’m telling you, find a way to talk to me during your tests and I’ll help you if you help me with my math.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“Talk to you as in texting or like telepathically?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________Lucas switches the camera off and leans back against the rough behind them._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“Telepathically would be dope.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“I’ll get on that.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________Lucas laughs before, “Speaking of texting, why don’t I have your number yet?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“Because you haven’t asked?” Jens replies sassily, and yeah, they’re definitely flirting._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“Well.” Lucas produces a phone from the side of the camera bag. “Better get on that.” He opens it, typing in a code, and passes it to Jens when he opens a new contact._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________Jens smiles as he types his name and number in before handing it back to him. Lucas sends him a text after a second, just a ?, and Jens sends one back._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“Had to make sure it’s legit,” Lucas says._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“Why would I give you a fake number?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“I don’t know, you don’t like me or something?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________Jens furrows his brows at him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“If I didn’t like you, I wouldn’t let you take my picture.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________“Touché.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________There’s a beat of silence as Jens adds Lucas to his contacts ( _Lucas _📷) before he asks, “What school do you go to? I haven’t seen you around except here.”___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“I’m doing online.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“Ooo.” They both put their phones in their pockets. “How’s that going for you?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“Honestly I like it better. School is exhausting.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“Yeah.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“Especially people. It’s nice to have a break.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“The people are exhausting?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“Mm-hmm.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“Am I?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“Not yet.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________“ _Oh _-kay.” Jens laughs and reaches out, pushing him, and Lucas giggles, grabbing Jens’s hand and pushes it away.___ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________“If I fall off of this, I’m going to kill you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________Later, as the joint burns down between the two of them, Jens asks how online school worlds. Lucas tells him about the calendar he has online, how all of his assignments for the school year are already laid out in front of him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________“It’s a lot less stressful, knowing every assignment that’s coming.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________“Sounds nice. Sometimes I don’t know what assignments I have until a week after they’re due.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________Lucas’s eyes squint when he laughs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________Eventually, Jens realises the sky has darkened, and he looks up to see the stars, which automatically make him think of Lucas’s freckles. And the fact that it’s much later than he feels like it is._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

____________________________________“Shit.” He pulls out his phone, seeing a text from his mom, sent almost twenty minutes ago._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________________________________Where are you??? ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________________________________He types out a response as he swings his legs off the dumpster and jumps to the ground._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_______________________________________Sorry, lost track of time. On my way home now. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________“Oh, yeah, you have school tomorrow, don’t you?” Lucas asks as he hand’s Jens’s bag to him._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________“Ugh, yes.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________“Sucks to be you.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________Jens furrows his brow at him as he pulls the strap over his head._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________“Don’t you too?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________“Yeah, but I don’t have to get up until like ten.” Lucas gives him a dry grin and jumps down, clutching the camera. Jens flips him off and he laughs._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________________________________________They part ways ar the sidewalk, going down opposite paths, and say goodbye by bumping their palms and fists together. Jens has to stuff his hand in his pocket after to stop it from shaking. Not even five minutes later, as he walks alone down an empty sidewalk, the sound of passing cars in the distance muffled by tall buildings, he receives a text message._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________________________________________I’ll see you next week? ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________________________________________He smiles before answering._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

___________________________________________Of course. ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please check this google doc out to see how you can help support the BLM movement: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1-0KC83vYfVQ-2freQveH43PWxuab2uWDEGolzrNoIks/edit


	4. You Up?

Lucas moved in weeks ago, and he still isn’t done decorating his room.

Really, he could be, he could say “I’m done,” at any second and the room would look finished, but he keeps adding to it, adding to the walls. All four of them: covered, almost completely. Photos and drawings, newspaper clips and cut out letters from magazines pasted over paper and photographs to make quotes he liked and quotes he’d made up. One reads “In case you ever foolishly forget.” It had been pasted on a paper next to a photo of him and Kes in his last room, but now it was surrounded by architecture sketches he did. Another reads “Respect your mother,” over a cutout of Earth from a National Geographic magazine. The walls are cluttered, photos overlapping, some of them almost completely covered, other, random things, like a deflated, wrinkly, yellow balloon from his fourteenth birthday party, and train tickets, causing clashes in colour that felt like tv static. But a calming static, to him. Like all the colours came together to form a visual white noise. 

When his room is tidy it looks nicer. Like the mess on the walls in on purpose. (It was only partially. He wanted things on his walls but didn’t plan on it turning into this.) The contrast between the bare wood floor and the walls, scarcely a single spot left blank, looks nice. But usually, the floor is a mess too. Clothes strewn about, more colourful clothes than he wore in Utrecht, and sometimes tubes of paint scattered across the floor, along with a messy palette and brushes. He doesn’t sit at his desk to paint, using it to do schoolwork (unless he does it on his bed) and clearing it off to let his paintings dry somewhere he won’t have to worry about stepping on them. 

His room almost always smells like paint now. Oil paint usually, the smell deep and dull, only noticeable when you’re in the room, contrasting from the high, sharp scent of nail polish, which his room smells like every Wednesday. He always opens a window when he does his nails. 

He opens a window almost all the time, actually. He likes the fresh air, like the wind that will blow in. He has to put a box of paint behind his door though, as it swings open and shut with the wind. (That’s the only thing he doesn’t like about his new room. The latch on the door doesn’t work that well unless he locks it.) He likes opening the window at night especially, shutting it before he goes to bed. The night air is always cool on his face, and he holds his upper body out the window, closing his eyes and drinking in the air, listening, feeling, the night time city. Cars passing quietly in the distance, a lone bicyclist on the sidewalk below him, laughter from drunken friends, the nearly silent hum of the streetlights. The city is a different city at night.

Lucas loves exploring the Night City, loves how peaceful it is, how sleepy everything seems. At times, he feels like he’s the only one awake. It’s exhilarating. 

Leaning out the window, he props himself up on his elbows and sighs, the air cold in his nose and lungs. He catches a whiff of the paint as the wind churns in his room. He shifts on his feet, closing his eyes. He could fall asleep right now. Won’t, but he could. 

Moments like these are when he feels lonely, but a nice sort of lonely. A lonely where he feels alone but knows he isn’t really, knows he doesn’t have to be if he doesn’t want to. In another country, miles and miles away is his mom. (Who he talked to today. It was a nice conversation, she talked about how therapy is going so far and how kind her new nurse is.) And Noah. (Who he didn’t talk to today, but did talk to yesterday. It was over a video call and Lucas enjoyed watching him paint his nails. Noah told him about a museum he and Zoë went to on a date. Lucas told him about a great spot he’s found to take pictures of the sunset and promised to send some photos when he downloads them from his camera.) There’s also Kes, Isa, and Jayden, who he doesn’t talk to as much as he hoped to, but talks to about as much as he expected to. Little check-ins, “What have you been up to?” stuff like that. It wasn’t ideal, but it was still nice to hear from them. He’s also received videos of drunk Jayden and Kes, videos of them stumbling around, spilling whatever drink they’re holding, rambling about whatever it is. Kes has sent him a video of himself, in the darkness of night outside, nobody else around, yelling “I miss youuuuu!” the words slurring together. Of course, the video is now in Lucas’s camera roll. 

Somewhere in the city, he has Jens. Who is really Lucas’s only friend in Antwerp, unless his cousin counts. Lucas supposes he and Jens are friends; they’re texting now, which Lucas loves. There’s a flutter in his stomach every time he gets a notification from him, the same flutter that he gets every time he looks at a picture of him. He’s learned a lot about Jens. That he’s a skater(when Lucas said he skates too Jens said “I’ll have to take you to my favourite spots,” and Lucas’s smiles grew so big he could barely see), that he plays the guitar (Which, _of course_ , he does), that he likes greasy food. This last one he may have learned from Jens’s Instagram, which Lucas did ask for.

Lucas hears his phone vibrate from inside his room and opens his eyes slowly, letting them adjust, before straightening his back and turning into the room. The phone buzzes again as he reaches for it, and he picks it up, dropping himself on his bed, lifting it to read the messages. From Jens. The messages from Jens. At this time. 

_Hey_  
_You up?_

Lucas feels like he just went over a drop on a rollercoaster. He wonders if responding right now would seem desperate, but responds anyway.

_Always_

Jens reads the message as soon as it’s sent, and maybe there is a glimmer of hope that Jens feels the same as Lucas. But then again, it is a little past one in the morning. Maybe he’s just bored. But then again if he is… he’s talking to Lucas. Sometimes the quarrel between the optimist and the cynic in his head is exhausting. 

_Can I call you?_

Lucas smiles, a little excited. 

_Of course_

He freezes, realising he doesn’t know whether Jens means a video or a voice call, but Jens is already calling him. Lucas sighs in relief when it’s not a video call, and answers. 

“Hey.”  
“Hey.”

Jens’s voice is soft and Lucas can hear music on his end. It’s muffled like it’s playing from behind a closed door, and it’s loud and fast, with strong bass.

“Where are you?” Lucas asks.

“I’m, uhm… I’m at some party. My friend’s house.”

“Everything’s okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just… I don’t know, I got bored.” Jens’s words are slurring together slightly. 

“So you called me?” Lucas smiles.

“Yeah, I- I like talking to you.” 

His smile grows.

“I’m also, uhm…” Jens’s voice trails off and fades like he’s turning away from the phone. “Uhm, a little bit tipsy.” That explains it. 

“I can hear that.” 

“I can call you later if you want, when I’m not,” Jens says quickly, sounding apologetic. 

“No, it’s okay, you’re fine.” Lucas doesn’t want to hang up. He likes this, Jens’s voice in his ear like he’s whispering to him. Like everything he says is a secret. 

“Okay.” 

Lucas hears Jens sigh. 

“Where are you?” he asks.

“My friend’s house, I found an empty guest room.” Jens pauses. “There’s a bed but I’m laying on the floor.”

Lucas laughs. 

“Comfortable?” 

“Actually, yeah, really.” 

Lucas gets up, holding the phone to his ear, and shuts his window before kneeling on the ground, moving a box of paint tubes out of the way and laying down. He groans softly as his back cracks, and then sighs, laying his down on the floor and looking up at the ceiling. 

“Are you on the floor?” Jens asks after a second.

“Yeah. You’re right, this is nice.” 

Jens giggles and Lucas grins.

“I’m just gonna pretend I’m lying next to you,” Jens says.

“Sounds good.” Lucas closes his eyes.

There’s a minute of silence, except the music on Jens’s end. Lucas thinks he could fall asleep, with the bass and Jens’s breath in his ear. 

“Lucas?” 

“Yeah?” He doesn’t open his eyes. He doesn’t think Jens’s are open either. 

“Do you believe in God?” 

Oh. That’s a heavy question. Of course, Lucas’s mom believes in God, believes wholeheartedly in God. But Lucas can’t say he does. He enjoys going to church, enjoys listening to the others pray and sing, likes the sense of community that it seems to create. But he always feels like he’s just humouring his mom. 

“I like the idea of God,” he offers. 

“Mm.” 

“Why?” 

“I think…” It sounds like Jens rolls over on the floor. “I think if God is real…” He sighs. It sounds like he’s falling asleep. “He was having a good day when he made you.” 

Oh. 

Lucas heart just about explodes, and he laughs, 

“How much have you had to drink, exactly?” 

“Mmm… not much.” The slurring in his voice betrays him. 

“Mm-hmm.” 

“A _really_ good day.” 

“That’s a good pick up line.” 

“Mm,” Jens grunts, and says almost under his breath, “Why I said it.” 

“I might have to use that.” 

“On _who_?” 

Lucas grins at the drunken jealousy in his voice.

“Don’t know. Maybe I’ll just Uno-reverse-card it and use it on you on Thursday.” 

“Mm… okay.” 

They both sigh at the same time and Lucas smiles. 

He doesn’t know what time he falls asleep but it isn’t long after that. He ends up curled on his side, he knees pulled up so he’s in a ball, his arm tucked under his head with his phone so he can hear if Jens says anything else. He doesn’t. Lucas assumes he fell asleep before Lucas does.

Lucas falls asleep listening to him breath. WHich he wouldn’t tell anyone, obviously. But he does, listening to the long inhale, the quick huff of the exhale. 

By the time Lucas is asleep, their breaths have synced.


	5. Lucas Lucas

When Jens wakes up, his head is hurting. 

It’s _pounding_ like his brain is pressing against the inside of his skull, every nerve in his head throbbing.

“Fuck.” 

He pushes himself up, the carpet he’s on rough under his hands, so he’s sitting. His eyes are squeezed shut, anticipating the light in the room to be bright, and he opens them slowly. The room isn’t as bright he expected, the curtains drawn over the windows, and he opens them more, squinting across the room to see a four-poster bed. He gestures at the bed with an open hand and sighs, drawing his hands into fists as he brings them to his shoulders and pushes his chest out. His back cracks quietly and he groans.

He closes his eyes again, resting his forehead on his forearms as they lay across his knees. After a second, he lifts his head and looks to the ground blearily, seeing his phone. He checks the time, 10:38, and lowers the brightness before opening it. 

It opens to his call app. Which tells him that his last call was to Lucas. 

And lasted seven hours and twenty-seven minutes.

“Shit.” 

He barely remembers it. All he has is a vague memory of Lucas’s laughter in his ear, which, had he not seen his call history, he would have passed off as a dream.

He remembers only pieces of last night. The colour of the plastic cups and flashing lights, the sound of the music. He knows whose house he’s at. (But not what room. He’ll figure that out.) He knows he’s probably not the only person who accidentally slept over.

But he doesn’t know what he said to Lucas last night.

Jesus, what if he said something really awful? What if he just fully confessed to thinking Lucas is the prettiest boy Jens has ever laid eyes on?

He opens their texts, the last of which being just Jens asking if he could call Lucas, no hint of what he could possibly have said in the call. But he supposes he has to find out eventually. So he sends him a text message.

_Good morning_

When Lucas doesn’t respond right away (Jens isn’t expecting him to), Jens stands, pushing himself up off the floor, until he’s leaning against the closest wall, his eyes closed, a hand pressed to his head as it pulses with pain.

A minute later, Jens is in the hallway, looking down both ways to see a mess of cups, bottles, streamers, and paper plates. He steps over a small pile of clothes outside a dorr as he staggers slowly down the hall, a hand against the wall so he doesn’t lose his balance. After passing more messes and going down the stairs he finds himself in the living room. The couches and floor are littered with bodies, blankets tossed haphazardly over girls whose hair is covering their faces and boys whose mouths hang open as they snore. He passes through as quietly as he can, stepping around bottles and cans until he’s in the kitchen. He squints as he steps in, sunlight reflecting off of the white tile floor and counters. 

“Hey.” 

He winces at Marcus’s voice, opening an eye to see him and two other guys. Marcus is at the stove, and the others are sitting at the counter, looking over at Jens, who groans in response. They all laugh, and Jens shuts the door behind himself, stepping up to the counter. 

“Someone got fucked up last night,” one of them says. Jens doesn’t recognise his voice and can’t be bothered to look and see if he knows his face. Jens brings a finger to his lips, shushing him, and they laugh again.

“Bacon?” Marcus asks, pushing a plate across the counter in his direction, and Jens reaches out, wiggling his fingers before selecting a piece and uttering a quiet “Thanks.” 

Jens’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out to see that Lucas responded. He feels his cheeks heat up as he opens it. 

_Good morning! How’s the hangover?_

Jens groans internally (how drunk _was_ he when they called?), and sticks the rest of his bacon in his mouth as he responds. 

_I feel like the inside of my head exploded but the outside didn’t._

He looks up as Lucas types, his eyes getting used to the light. The guys have started talking, and as Jens looks at them, he realises one of them was in his maths class last year. He looks back down at his phone, not following the conversation. 

_:( poor baby_  
_Make sure you drink lots of water and all that_

Jens suppresses a smile.

_Will do_

“Do you need help cleaning up?” he asks Marcus when there’s a break in the conversation.

“No, don’t worry about it. My mom’s not coming home for a few days.” He flips a piece of bacon in the pan. “I’ll make these guys take care of it.” He nods to the boys at the counter.

“Fuck you.”

“I’m gonna leave.” 

Jens laughs as he grabs another piece of bacon.

“I think I’m gonna go, my mom’s probably wondering where I am,” he says, taking a bite. “You’re sure you don’t need help?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Marcus repeats.

\---

Marcus lives close enough to Jens’s that he decides to walk. He pauses after shutting the door behind himself and stretches his back before making his way down the sidewalk. He pulls the hood of his sweatshirt up and pulls on his jacket, which he had grabbed from a closet at Marcus’s before leaving. He doesn’t have any new messages from Lucas. (He ignores the several “Where are you?” messages from the Broerrrs from last night. He’ll respond when he has a reason that isn’t “I suddenly felt the need to talk to a pretty photographer.”) Feeling brave, he sends a text to Lucas. 

_Is it okay if I call you?_

Within seconds, there’s a response. 

_Yes, of course_

So he does.

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” 

He grins at Lucas’s voice. It’s deep and gravelly like he just woke up. 

“What’s up?” Jens asks, not knowing what to say, not knowing why he wanted to call him. 

“Dude, my back and shoulders hurt so much.” 

“Why?” Jens stops on the sidewalk, stepping into an alley and leaning against the wall, a hand at the small of his back as he leans his head back.

“Because I fell asleep on the floor?” Lucas says it like Jens should already know.

“You too?”

Lucas scoffs.

“You really don’t remember anything from last night, do you?

Oh no.

“No? What were we both doing on the floor?”

“Well-” It sounds like Lucas is sitting up. “You were on the floor when you called and I joined you because you said it was comfortable.” 

Jens presses a hand to his face, sighing. 

“Of course.” 

He hears Lucas laugh. 

“How wasted were you last night?” he asks, still laughing.

“More wasted than I said I was,” Jens responds, chuckling.

“You remember what you said?” 

“No, not at all. I just know I’m stupid when I’m drunk so I probably said some bullshit. And I’m sorry for anything else I said.” 

Jens is still nervous about what he said to Lucas. He feels hot, even though it’s chilly outside.

“Yeah, you said you were tipsy, which is _obviously_ an understatement.” Jens shakes his head at himself as Lucas continues. “And you didn’t really say much else, you fell asleep.

“Why does it say we called for like seven hours?” 

“Well, I fell asleep after that without hanging up.” 

“Ah.” Jens doesn’t believe that that’s all he said. “So I didn’t say anything else weird? I can’t be held responsible for what I say when I’m drunk.” 

“Actually, you know what, there was one thing-” Lucas cuts himself off, laughing gently, the sound of it muffled like he’s covering his mouth with his hand. 

“Oh no, what did I do?” He can feel his heart beating faster.

“Okay, you may have used a pick-up line on me that I am never going to forget, and never going to let you forget, I’m going to remind of this every day until we’re eighty.” 

“Fuck.” Jens covers his face with a hand and steps away from the wall, rolling his eyes at himself. Of course it was a pick-up line. “What did I say?” 

“So—” Lucas giggles. “You asked if I believe in God and when I asked why, you said— you said that if he’s real, God was having a good day when he made me.” 

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Jens throws his head back and lets out a groan. “That’s— I’m so sorry.” He can hear Lucas laughing. 

“It was so cute, you were like, falling asleep as you said it, it was great.” 

“You’re never going to let me forget about it.” 

“Nope.” 

\---

“Hey-o.” 

Jens grins and turns his head to see Lucas bouncing up next to his as Lena disappears from his view. 

“Hey.”

Lucas’s hands are clasped in from of him, his fingers twisting his ring, and he’s smiling brightly, quirking his eyebrows at him. They stare at each other from a few seconds (or a few minutes; Jens seems to lose track of time when he looks at Lucas… or just thinks about him), before Lucas breaks the silence. 

“How are you?” He tilts his head at Jens innocently.

“Mm-hmm.” It’s like he’s lost all control over his articulation, over his thoughts. He looks into Lucas’s eyes, that seem to be practically glowing in the golden light of the sun, looks at his freckles against his skin, at his little smile that grows at Jens continues to look at it.

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Lucas says, and Jens’s eyes snap back to his. 

“Uhm…” Jens sighs, looking away and adjusting his grip on his bag. “I’m tired. Could use a nap.” 

“Hm.” Lucas presses his lips together in a sympathetic half-smile. “We can go sit on a dumpster if you’d like.” 

“Sounds good to me.” 

Lucas grins and raises his eyebrows at him like they’re going off on some adventure and not ten feet down the sidewalk. He walks ahead of Jens and Jens follows the pattern of his shirt, a muted colour-block sweatshirt, as they walk. Lucas looks like he walked right off the set of an eighties movie. Jens loves it, smiling to himself softly. 

“Well, we have a problem,” Jens says, turning into the alley, and Jens sees it immediately. The dumpster is filled past the brim with plastic bags, the lid hanging open. 

“That’s weird,” Jens says, stepping next to Lucas as they both stare at it.

“Truly.”

“What now?” 

“Uhm,” Lucas says, hesitating, and then shrugs. “We can sit on the ground.” 

A second passes before Jens responds, “Yeah, why not?”

He tosses his bag to the ground and site, pressing his back to the wall, and Lucas joins him, sitting with his back against the side of the dumpster, facing Jens and the empty street. Jens’s breath catches nervously when Lucas sits, as he’s sat close to the bin, thinking Lucas would sit at his side. Instead, Lucas back against the bin, lifting his legs and setting them over Jens’s, which are extended in front of him. The backs of Lucas’s thighs press lightly against the tops of Jens’s, and Jens lifts his hand awkwardly, not knowing what to do with it. 

He settles for setting one hand on Lucas’s shin and the other gently on his knee, his fingers brushing back and forth over the worn denim of his jeans. Lucas sighs, leaning his head back and looking at him, his own hands folded in front of him. 

“Do you know any good cafes around here?” Lucas asks, looking at Jens with softly smiling eyes.

“Uhm…” Jens sighs, laying his head on the wall behind him and looking away. This feels easy, sitting here, touching Lucas. Comfortable. “Depends on what you’re looking for.” He looks back at Lucas.

“Cake.” 

“Cake…” Jens looks away again, puckering his lips and looking at the sky as he thinks. “Yeah, I can think of one. I haven’t had their cakes, but I’ve seen them in the window. They look lovely.” 

“You’ll have to take me some time.” There’s a smile in his voice. 

“Mm,” Jens hums in agreement, absentmindedly scratching his nails over Lucas’s knee. Lucas closes his eyes briefly, looking peaceful. 

“Oh!” Lucas exclaims, and reaches into his pocket, moving his hips slightly, pulling his phone out. “I didn’t bring my camera today, so…” He swipes after the screen opens and points it at Jens. 

Jens lifts his hands to his face, pressing his palms to his cheeks, and pouts, facing the camera. Lucas smiles, clicking. 

Jens drops his hands back to Lucas’s leg and Lucas leans toward him, moving the camera so it’s pointing at his hand on Lucas’s knee. Jens looks at Lucas’s face as he takes a picture, his brows drawn in focus, his lower lip caught between his teeth, and Jens smiles. A breeze passes through the alley and Jens catches a whiff of Lucas’s smell, the smell that is distinctly _him_ , as Lucas’s hair falls in his face.

Lucas straightens up, jerking his head to the side slightly to toss his hair out of his face, and looks at Jens, who smiles and looks away, tilting his head back to look at the sky. It’s almost cloudless.

He hears a quiet click and a soft chuckle and looks at Lucas, who is looking at his phone.

“Yeah,” Lucas says as he gazes at the screen that lights up his face.

“Yeah, what?” 

“God was having a good day when he made you.” Lucas grins as Jens groans and puts his phone away, giggling as Jens rolls his eyes and looks away, trying not to smile as his face burns.

“I can’t believe I said that,” he says quietly.

“Don’t worry about it,” Lucas says, reaching out and patting Jens’s hand. “It was cute.” He hesitates a second and leaves his hand on top of Jens’s, softly running his fingertips over Jens’s knuckles, leaving sparks in their trail.

Jens takes a shaky breath as he smiles, looking at their hands. He spreads his fingers and Lucas copies him, their fingers entwining. Jens’s curl, trapping Lucas’s, and Lucas runs his thumb across the back of Jens’s hand gently. Jens glances at Lucas to see that he’s smiling at their hands. He looks sleepy, and Jens smiles again. He untwists their fingers, turning his hand around so he’s holding Lucas’s fingers, analysing his nails. They’re a soft blue, matching shards of Lucas’s eyes.

“Pretty,” Jens says, feeling Lucas watching him.

“You think so?” 

“Mm-hmm.” He looks at Lucas, letting their fingers tangle easily. 

“I don’t even know what my friends would say about it.”

“Utrecht friends?” 

Lucas hums in affirmation. 

“You didn’t paint your nails in Utrecht?” Jens watches as Lucas shakes his head. “Why not?” 

Lucas sighs, leaning his head back. 

“I was different in Utrecht.”

“Is that good?” 

Lucas smiles, lightly nodding. “They knew old Lucas. Straight, short-hair, skater Lucas.” 

“What Lucas do I know?” 

Lucas holds eye contact with his, twisting his mouth as he thinks. 

“Lucas Lucas,” he says. 

Jens smiles, nodding. 

“What changed?” he asks curiously. “Why weren’t you Lucas Lucas in Utrecht?” 

“Uhm…” Lucas looks up at the sky. “I lived there my whole life. You know, same friends, same classmates, same neighbours. So I acted like them.” He looks at Jens. “I learned to skate because of my friends. Made out with girls at parties. Stuff like that.” He pauses and Jens nods. “I mean of course I love my friends. And it’s not like I was lying to them, you know? I just wasn’t… showing the whole truth?” 

“Yeah.” 

They speak quietly, listening to passing cars and people talking across the street, the sound and meaning of their words lost in the distance. 

“And then I move to a new city. Where no one knows me. I don’t have to worry about people recognising me, or wondering or asking why I’m… acting weird.” 

Jens tightens his grip on Lucas’s hand as he continues. 

“I don’t have to pretend anything. I get to be whatever, or whoever, I want.” He shrugs. “So I choose to be me.” 

Jens smiles and nods lightly. 

“I like that.” 

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” 

Jens brings Lucas’s hand to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Lucas smiles.

“For the record,” Jens says after a quiet second, running his fingertips over Lucas’s hand and wrist, “I like Lucas Lucas best.” 

“You’ve never met old Lucas, though.” 

Jens watches his mouth as he says it, holding back from leaning across Lucas’s legs and kissing him right now. 

“I don’t want to,” he says softly.


	6. Fuck You

The wind is cool on Lucas’s neck as he looks down at his phone. The bright green grass of the park he’s in is scratchy on his ankles as he crosses his legs in front of himself.

He has Instagram open, but not his personal account, not the one that Kes and Isa and Liv follow. Not the one with his face and funny captions and comments by his friends. Not the one people know about. 

This one, he started sometime last year, when hiding became too much and needed an outlet, and a diary didn’t work. He never posts pictures of himself (the profile picture is of a Greek statue), and never posts regularly. The captions never really make sense, are never thought out or planned. And the pictures are all of buildings, art, flowers, trees, the skyline of the city, Every last one: black and white. 

Until today. 

The photo he posts isn’t very colourful. It was taken at night, as Jens walked away from him down the street, illuminated by the yellow streetlamps, his arms extended in an impromptu pose as Lucas called, “I’m taking your picture!” The photo was taken seconds before Jens said, “Wait, shit, my bag!” and bolted back to the alley, emerging with his duffle bag hanging off his shoulders and Lucas nearly dropped his phone laughing. Lucas types out a quick caption, nothing thinking as his fingers move across the letters on his screen, posting it to the very few accounts that follow him. 

Lucas sighs, clicking his phone off and tilting his head back to look at the sky. It’s overcast, cloudy, but not gloomy exactly, the sun peeking through gaps in the clouds as they shift and flow above him. He reaches out, picking up a disposable coffee cup, and takes a tentative sip, watching as an old man through the park with a dog. The dog walks slowly for him, and Lucas smiles as he lowers the cup. The coffee isn’t too hot anymore, although his tongue still hurts from when he burned it earlier. He sets the cup on the ground, taking his hand away slowly to make sure it doesn’t fall in the grass, and leans over his legs, picking up his pencil and looking at his sketchbook in front of him. The page is blank, inviting. 

Lucas picks up the sketchbook, setting it on his lap and looks up at the building in front of where he sits, scanning the lawn, the door and windows, the trees, the roof, looking at the people walking past. Glancing back and forth, the building begins to take shape on his paper, light, straight lines stretching across the page. The building looks more geometric on his paper, faint guidelines just visible at every corner, every line rigid and straight, except the scribbles filling spaces for the trees.

This is peaceful, listening to the birds, to the faint sound of people talking across the park, hearing his pencil slide across the paper. Hearing dogs barking, cars passing, wind rustle through the trees. He hears faint laughter by the street and smiles softly. 

He drops his pencil on instinct when he hears his phone buzz, looking at it as it vibrates with the screen alight on top of his bag. At first, he rolls his eyes in annoyance at the interruption, but his face brightens when he reads Jens’s name on his screen.

He beams, leaning over and picking it up, a sudden giddiness glowing through his smile, the same giddiness that glows every time Jens calls, every time he texts, every time Lucas so much as thinks about him.

He pauses before answering, taking a breath, and notices the time before pressing answer and lifting the phone to his ear.

“Shouldn’t you be in class?” he asks before Jens can say anything. 

“I’ve got a class in five minutes and I’ve managed to escape my friends for the time being, _I have a question!_ ”

Lucas raises his eyebrows and grins as his sudden urgency.

“Ask away,” he says, leaning across his crossed legs and lifting his pencil, looking back at the building as he adds details lightly around the roof.

“Do you have any plans this evening?”

And Lucas drops his pencil again. 

“Uhm…” He thinks, heart pounding in his chest excitedly. “I don’t think so.” And if there are plans, Lucas is more than willing to cancel.

“What do you think about going to that cafe I mentioned?”

“The cake one?” 

“Yeah.” It sounds like Jens is surrounded people, his voice a little breathless. 

“Yeah, I’d love to.” He pauses. “You don’t have a party or anything with your friends?” 

“I—Yeah, there’s a party, but I…” He trails off. “I’d rather be with you, to be honest.” 

Lucas squeezes his eyes shut and grins. 

“Okay.” 

There’s a moment of silence and Lucas can hear people talking and the sound of Jens’s breath and steps as he goes down stairs. He wonders if Jens can hear the birds on his end of the line.

“So yeah?” Jens asks. “I’ll meet you at our spot?” 

_Our spot._

“Yeah, what time?” 

“Seven?” 

“That works for me.” 

“Okay.” He can hear Jens’s smile. “I’ve got to go. I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Bye.”

“Bye.

Jens hangs up and Lucas slowly lowers his phone, smiling. He’s going on a date. A real, actual date, with the prettiest boy in Antwerp. The prettiest boy in the universe, really, as far as Lucas is concerned. 

And fuck, if he doesn’t look pretty in a button-down.

“You clean up nice,” Lucas says, reaching out and straightening his collar. Jens flushes under the lamplight, looking away and scratching the back of his head. 

“Thanks.”

Jens takes a deep breath, looking Lucas up and down and suddenly Lucas feels self-conscious in his sweater. 

“Am I underdressed?” he asks, putting his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his feet. 

“No, you look good.” Jens is smiling softly. 

“So, where are we going?” 

“Cafe. Come on.” Jens cocks his head and turns to go down the sidewalk. Lucas joins him, walking at his side silently. It’s already dark out, the street lit up by streetlamps, and Lucas looks up at Jens’s face, seeing his eyes shining in the light. 

“Yes?” Jens looks at him, smiling again.

“You’re pretty.” He looks ahead of himself and hears Jens scoff lightly.

There’s a moment of silence before Jens asks gently, “Can I hold your hand?” and Lucas grins, pulling a hand out of his pocket and holding it between them. Jens laces his fingers with Lucas’s, brushing his thumb over the back of his hand. Lucas sighs happily. 

“So you’d rather get cake with me than go to a fun party?” Lucas asks, and Jens swings their hands slightly.

“I’d rather sit on a dumpster with you than go to a fun party.” 

“That’s sweet.” Lucas squeezes his hand. 

“If I had gone, though, I probably would have ended up calling you again. 

“Also sweet.” 

Jens lets go of his hand to open the door of the cafe, stepping aside so Lucas can enter. ( Lucas tilts his head and says, “Oh, a gentleman.”) They sit at a small table against the wall, away from the door. There aren’t many other people, an elderly woman near the window with a thick book and thick glasses, and a middle-aged couple sitting in a booth, a small bouquet between them. The lighting is dim, yellow light omitted from hanging overhead bulbs and fairy lights. 

Jens sits against the wall, looking up at Lucas and propping his chin on his hands. 

“Hi,” Lucas says as he sits, copying him. “You know what you want?” 

“Uhm…” Jens scans his face. “I don’t know.” 

Lucas slides the menu next to him across the table and Jens takes it, opening it and looking down. 

“Coffee...Tea...Croissants…” He looks up. “Cafe basics.” 

Lucas laughs, cocking his head, and Jens looks back down at the menu. As Jens continues to read from it quietly, Lucas reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, snapping a picture of him. Jens hears and lifts the menu to cover his face, smiling bashfully. 

“Do you think it’s too late to order a coffee?” Lucas asks, setting his phone on the table. 

“Oh, never.” Jens sets the menu down. “My mother would say yes, but I don’t feel like an herbal tea right now. 

“All I know is I want cake,” Lucas says, spinning the menu to see it. 

“Okay.” Jens snatches the menu and moves it away from him. Before Lucas can protest, Jens is standing. “I’ll surprise you. You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” 

Lucas looks up at him and shakes his head. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” Jens leaves to the counter and Lucas sighs, running his hands over his face and smiling. He takes a moment, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, before opening them and grabbing a napkin with one hand and reaching into his pocket with the other, pulling out a pen. He’d almost forgotten the pen on his way out his room. He likes carrying a pen with him, usually doodling on his hands or his ankles as he crosses a leg on top of the other. Other times, he doodles on trash, spare paper or receipts, napkins. The ink is black and light over the soft paper, a small flower taking shape. The lines are rough and sketchy. He tries to do a straight line but stops when the paper almost rips. 

There’s a small square of flowers by the time Jens joins him again, placing a mug in front of Lucas and another across from him. Lucas looks up and drops the pen, but Jens is walking back to the counter. Lucas watches as he lifts two plates and comes back, and moves the mugs and napkin out of the way for the plates. 

“Okay, I’m back now,” Jens says, flopping in his seat. He drops several packets of sugar on the table. “I figured with the cake that you have a sweet tooth, so here.”

Lucas smiles and grabs three, ripping them all together and pouring them into his coffee. 

\---

“You’ve got…” Lucas gestures to Jens’s face, suppressing a smile. 

“What?” 

There’s a smudge of chocolate on his cheek, and Lucas hesitates before grabbing another napkin and leaning across the table and carefully wiping his face. Jens lets him, his cheeks and ears turning red. 

“Oh.” 

Lucas giggles and retracts his hand, letting Jens take the napkin.

“You’re an idiot,” Lucas says softly, affectionately, picking up his pen and adding some tiny lines to his doodle of Jens on the napkin. He hears Jens scoff. 

“Fuck you.” There’s laughter in Jens’s voice and Lucas smiles.

“Take me out to dinner first, damn…” 

He finishes the sketch and looks up to see Jens staring at him with a straight face, his lips pressed together. Lucas stares back, trying not to smile, and Jens takes a deep, slow breath, exhaling shakily before bursting out laughing. Lucas laughs, shushing him.

“ _Shut up!_ ” 

“Sorry, I’m just—” Jens covers his face and turns away. His eyes are squeezed shut and Lucas can hear his short breaths as he laughs, making Lucas laugh harder.

Jens takes a deep breath and lowers his hands, gesturing to the two almost-empty plates of cake between them.

“What the fuck am I doing here?” 

Lucas laughs again, dropping his head against the table, his shoulders shaking. He’s glad there aren’t many people in the cafe. 

“Cake doesn’t count as dinner,” he says, lifting his head.

“What do you _mean_?” Jens leans in, tilting his head and furrowing his brows. “Anything is dinner if you’re not a coward.”

Lucas snorts and takes another bite of cake. 

“Okay, fine.” He starts to draw more flowers around Jens. He can feel Jens’s eyes on him as he does, and the air has shifted around them slightly, but he ignores it as he feels Jens’s knee press into his under the table.

\---

He walks Jens home. Really, he just wants to spend every last second possible with him, but the excuse he says is that Jens was the gentleman at the cafe, and now it’s Lucas’s turn.

They stop outside an apartment building and Jens turns to Lucas, his fingers twisting in Lucas’s so he’s holding their hands between them. Lucas’s eyes flick back and forth between his, both their eyes glistening in the light of the streetlamps.

“I’ll see you on Thursday?” Jens asks after a second. 

“’Course.” 

Jens smiles softly and Lucas watches his mouth as he does, tightening his grip on Jens’s hand, and leans up slightly, bumping their noses together. Jens’s eyes flutter shut.

There aren’t just butterflies, it feels like there’s a flock of birds in his belly. And in his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He can feel Jens’s breath on his face, soft as gusts of wind from a butterfly’s wings.

Nudging their noses together, Lucas leans and turns his head, and presses his lips to Jens’s cheek gently. He can feel Jens’s cheek move as he smiles. 

“I’ll see you Thursday,” he says after kissing his cheek again and Jens nods. 

“Bye,” Jens whispers.

As Lucas walks away and he knows Jens can’t see him, he beams, squeezing his eyes shut. He turns a corner and presses his back to the wall, covering his face with his hands.

He stays there for almost a full minute, breathing deeply, waiting for his heartbeat to slow down. 

The napkin is stuffed in his pocket.


	7. Blue

They never really said it was a date, but they don’t really have to.

Jesus, it was perfect.

The perfect mix of awkward and comfortable, and Jens’s face felt perpetually red, his ears and cheeks hot, his neck warm under the button down, which he’d dug out of his closet just for last night, even ironed it when his mom was still at work so she wouldn’t ask questions. He felt like a middle schooler going to his first school dance as he looked at himself in the mirror, attempting to smooth his hair.

And he didn’t miss the way Lucas’s eyes skimmed over him as he approached him outside the alley, or the way Lucas licked his lips slowly before smiling and reaching up to touch his collar, which Jens thought he had straightened. 

Jens had the same nervous flutter in his heart and stomach as he asked to hold his hand, the same feeling he had when he asked if he had any plans for the evening.

He also almost couldn’t stop smiling last night, almost beaming at the cashier after she asked, “Is there anything else your boyfriend wants?” (He knows they’re not _official_ but it’s a nice thought.) He almost giggled when he saw Lucas’s doodle of him, almost wanted to ask to keep it. (And he would, would pin it to his wall above his bed or desk. He’d fucking frame it if he could.)

But Lucas shoved it in his own pocket as they left. 

So oh, well.

Jens picks his skateboard up as he pulls his phone out of his pocket, smiling _again_ as he reads a message from Lucas. 

_I’m bored, save me_

He tucks his skateboard under his arm and stops n the sidewalk, stepping to the side as he types.

_uhmmm…_   
_draw something pretty?_

He opens the gate to his apartment building, the same place he’d stood last night as Lucas leaned up and kissed his cheek. Twice. Honestly, Jens did think that Lucas was going to kiss him, _actually_ kiss him, and couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed when he didn’t, but the feeling disappeared as he felt Lucas’s lips press softly against his cheek, smiling again before he kissed him a second time. Lucas’s soft “I’ll see you on Thursday,” made him open his eyes and after saying “Bye,” he watched Lucas walk away, down the sidewalk, feeling like he was in a shitty, low-budget romance film. But it was fine.

Jens makes his way to his door, pulling the board to his chest to avoid hitting the walls of the narrow hallway. The hall is a little dingy, and dim, most of the light coming from the flickering lights on the ceiling and sunlight coming in through windows at the end of the hall. Before he got the barre installed, he hadn’t wanted his friends to come over because of it, because of how shitty the building is. He’d been worried it would make him look like he was a different class, a different level of life, that maybe it would drive a barrier between him and the guys. 

He reaches for the door handle, holding his phone up as it buzzes and feeling his face flush as he reads Lucas’s message.

_I’ve already drawn you_

He grins, his face lighting up like the phone screen as he passes the threshold, replying _:D_.

“I’m back!” he calls, stepping into the living room, adjusting his grip on the skateboard so it doesn’t scratch the walls. His face is still flushed slightly, flighting a small smile by biting his lip.

“There he is!” a man’s voice says, and he looks up, the smile dropping off his dace, the thought of Lucas and any texts from Lucas dropping from his mind. The old man is sitting on the sofa, a hand on the coffee table next to Lotte and her homework, strewn across the table as she sits on the floor, not looking at Jens as he walks in. The man is smiling broadly, deepening the wrinkles on his face.

“Hi, Grandpa. Mom, can I talk to you for a minute?” Jens asks flatly, dropping his arms so the board is at his side, and he steps into the kitchen, hearing a sighed “Yeah,” like she was expecting it.

He leans against the counter of the small kitchen, huffing as he lays his head against the cabinet, waiting until she steps in, her slippers padding softly on the floor, and shuts the door behind herself.

“What the hell?” he asks, getting straight to the point.

“Jens, I know, he just showed up, I—”

“Last time I saw him, I hoped I’d never his face again, and I come home and he’s in the living room doing math with my sister?” 

“I know you don’t like him—” 

“A text. A warning, that that asshole is here, would have been nice, you know.” 

“Jens, _I know_ you don’t like him.” She presses her fingers to her temples, shutting her eyes.

“No, Mom, I don’t like him. I _really_ don’t like him.” He’s speaking quietly, practically hissing at her. 

“It’s just a few days.” She drops his hands and looks up at him, looking helpless. Hopeless. 

“Is that what he said?” Jens doesn’t believe it.

“He said he needs a place to stay.”

Jens scoffs, looking away, his brows furrowing. 

“He’s got plenty of fucking money, why is he _here_?”

“I don’t know.” She sighs. “Just— be nice. Please.” 

“ _I’m_ supposed to be nice?” He steps closer, the words slithering out of his mouth. “You’re telling me I’m supposed to be nice to _him_.” 

“I know, I just—” Her hands are holding her face.

“Mom, he fucking—” 

“Jens, that’s _enough_.” She holds her hands out between them, her palms facing him, and Jens’s mouth snaps shut. “It’s just a few days. Okay? Be patient.” 

He takes a deep breath, glaring at her. 

“Fine.” Before she can move to the door, he continues. “But if he lays a finger, _a finger_ on Lotte, you won’t ever have to worry about him again.”

There’s a beat of silence before she sighs and opens the door, leaving, and Jens opens the cupboard behind his head, rummaging through the contents, searching for bags of crisps and other snacks, which he stuff into his backpack. 

After rubbing his face, collecting himself, and sliding the bag back over his shoulder, he steps out into the living room, giving his grandfather, Dilan, a tight smile as he looks up. Jens drops his skateboard at the door.

“Lotte, why don’t you do your reading homework for now?” Jens’s mother says gently, and Lotte nods, quietly stacking her papers neatly and setting them to the side. Jens sits on the small sofa opposite to the one Dilan and his mom are on.

“What have you been up to?” Dilan asks, his voice thick and raspy, a sign of the cigarettes he smells of. His hands are on his knees, rubbing absentmindedly over the brown material of his pants. There’s a tiny sense of relief as Jens notices the absence of the thick gold band that was around Dilan’s finger last time he saw him.

“Just…” Jens shrugs nonchalantly. “School, skating with my friends. Hanging out with Lotte.” Jens sees her smile softly at her homework.

“You still doing that ballet thing?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I am.” Jens stops himself from huffing, disappointed that Dilan had arrived at the topic so soon. Jens would rather avoid the topic completely. 

“Huh.” 

Jens glances at his mom, who is watching Lotte work, her face tight and posture stiff, like she’s bracing herself. 

“Thought that would be a phase.” Dilan laughs and Jens presses his lips together, tilting and shaking his head.

“Nope, not a phase.” _Drop it, drop it, drop it._

“Well, that’s unfortunate.”

_Okay._

“I have homework,” Jens says, standing up and clapping his hands. 

“Oh, why don’t you do it in here? We can have a homework party,” Dilan says, leaning over and gently tapping Lotte’s shoulder playfully. She cringes, shrugging her shoulders and moving away.

“I have to focus,” Jens says, watching Lotte until her shoulders drop. “Sorry.” He gives another half-smile and leaves to his room, shutting his door behind himself and throwing himself onto his bed after dropping his backpack to the floor. He groans quietly into his pillow. 

Almost five years since he last saw Dilan, and Jens still felt the same way about him. All the disgust, all the resentment he’d had for him when he first saw him still bubbles up every time he thinks about him. A quiet _How could he?_ in the back of Jens’s head when he thinks about what Dilan did, when he thinks about how Dilan left Jens’s mom, abandoned her and her mom, and came back only when Jens’s grandma had passed, his timing conveniently matching the timing of his ex-wife’s passing, the death of the woman he’d cheated on and then left with a young child. He came back when _Jens_ was old enough to remember, skipped out on Jens’s mom’s entire childhood, every birthday and graduation, and her wedding. 

That alone was enough to make Jens’s blood boil.

But added to him coming in and complaining that five-year-old Lotte didn’t make eye contact with him, that she wouldn’t hug him, him coming in and commenting on the ballet, telling Jens that he should join a “real sport,” that dancing is for pussies, him telling Jens’s mom that Jens and Lotte would be better off if she went and found a man…

It makes Jens feel like a volcano before eruption.

Not to mention the slap across the face that Jens had gotten before Dilan left, for telling him “dancing isn’t _fucking_ gay,” after about the twelfth time Dilan had said it was. The slap that came with the sting of the cold metal of his run, a red mark on Jens’s cheek nearly blending with the blush on Jens’s cheeks as his face flushed with anger and humiliation as Dilan scolded him and told him to be respectful. 

The slap that was apparently a parting gift, because he left the next day and Jens didn’t see him for another four years. Not that Jens is complaining. He’d gladly go another twenty years without seeing his face. 

Jens wastes time in his room, changing his jeans into leggings and stretching on the floor before going through a short combination ar the barre, opening a bag of crisps he’d taken from the kitchen, as he lays on his bed, a leg hanging off the edge, swinging.

He sits up as the door opens, pushing himself against the headboard of his bed as Lotte walks in, turning around to close to the door quietly with both hands. Jens folds the crisp bag, closing it so Lotte can’t smell it, and tosses it to his bedside table. 

“What’s up?” he asks as she turns back to face him, looking at the floor. 

“You don’t like Grandpa.” She tugs at her sleeves, toeing at the ground with a foot.

“I’m not the biggest fan of the guy.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t very nice to me last time I saw him.” 

She’s quiet for a moment, her mouth twisting as she analyzes the wood of Jens’s floor. Her fingers twist around the edge of her sleeve.

“Why was he mean to you?” Her voice is quiet.

Jens crosses his legs, laying his head back as he looks at her.

“He wasn’t really trying to be, he was just telling me what he thought.”

Lotte takes this in, and he brow furrows as she frowns. She sighs, not saying anything else, and continues twisting her fingers on her sleeve and her foot on the floor. 

“What is it?” Jens asks, sensing that there’s something more.

“Will you play for me?” 

He smiles gently.

“If you bring it to me.” 

She lifts her chin and smiles brightly, her eyes still on the floor, and her hands let go of her sleeves, flapping in the air as her shoulders hunch. She turns to pick up Jens’s guitar from the stand by his desk, carrying it carefully to him and he takes it. 

“What do you want to hear?” He waits as she thinks, running his fingers down the strings as she climbs onto the bed across from him.

“I don’t know.” 

“What colour?”

She crosses her legs, rubbing her sleeves between his fingers, her eyes trained on the fabric as it moves. She takes a few slow breaths before answering.

“Blue.” 

He nods and moves his fingers to the fretboard, pressing down as he strums once, and pauses, looking at her until she nods, her eyes now watching Jens’s hands on the guitar. 

He strums again, over and over, changing chords, every strum slow and gentle, until he’s played through a full song, and then he plays another. He plays until Lotte is smiling, her fingers still rubbing the fabric of her shirt, until she’s rocking back and forth happily, and he can feel the bed moving with her. He smiles, even though she can’t see it. 

And then he keeps playing.


	8. Why don't I know you?

The way he said it in the text, you’d think Lucas has only drawn Jens once, but the truth is, he’s drawn him several times. Not that he’d tell him that, of course.

There’s a doodle from the cafe, and the one he did before he tossed the napkin, which was too wrinkled for his liking. There’s also the sketches of Jens copied from photos Lucas has of him, one of Jens’s silhouette against the sky, one of Jens smiling bashfully, one of Jens pretending to pose like a model. (Lucas had said, “Oh, perfect, you should try for Vogue.”) He’s also added some of his own touches to some of them, colouring Jens with abstract colours, lightly tracing music notes around his head like a crown, drawing sunflowers and daisies and roses around him.

Again, not that he’s ever planning on Jens, or anyone for that matter, ever seeing them.

Every sheet that he draws Jens on, every sheet that ends up covered in little sketches of him, is ripped out of his sketchbook and folded before being placed between the pages of his dictionary on his desk (which he really doesn’t even know why he has; he’s never used it for anything except storing secret drawing). 

As he places the dictionary back on his desk, his door swings open and a head pops in, scanning the room until his cousin’s eyes land on him. 

“Milan!” Lucas says, exasperated. “What did we say about knocking?”

“Sorry,” Milan says, clearly not. “Uh, I have some friends coming by. They should be here in a bit if you want to meet them before your daily jaunt.”

“Jaunt…” Lucas whispers to himself as he slides the book in all the way. “Yeah, sure.” He turns to face Milan and sees that he’s holding himself up as he leans into the room, one hand on the doorframe and the other on the knob.

“Cool! I’ve got one friend, I think you’ll like him, he’s an artist too.” He’s speaking rapidly, visibly excited. “He did the uh… You know what, I’ll let him tell you.” Before Lucas can respond, Milan is gone, the door shut behind him. 

“Okay,” Lucas says after staring at the door for a second. He jumps on his bed, pulling his phone out of his pocket and throwing himself onto his back, the thud loud around the room. The room is quieter than usual, his window closed to keep the cold out, but keeping the city sounds out as well. He can only faintly hear cars outside, covered by the window and walls, and the hum of his heater. (And Milan singing loudly in the kitchen but Lucas ignores that.)

Bored, he opens his chat with Jens and scrolls up to read their past messages. 

A message from Jens reads: 

_My grandpa’s visiting so I’ve locked myself in my room_

When he first read it, Lucas had considered asking why he didn’t want to be with his grandpa, but decided against it, replying _Sounds lonely. What are you doing?_ to which Jens responded with a photo. The picture is of his leg, wrapped in dark fabric and his foot covered with a canvas ballet shoe, propped up on a wooden bar attached to the wall. The message under it read _This, homework, and playing guitar for my sister._ At the time, Lucas had smiled, typing _Nice, lame, sweet._ But now he opens the picture, raising the brightness of the screen and zooming in to see how the muscles of Jens’s leg twist, to see the contours of his leg as Jens points his foot. He wonders if Jens would ever let him take a photo of him doing ballet. It would make a great anatomy study. But it might sound like… something else, Lucas realises, clicking out of the picture and dropping his phone as his face flushes. 

He pushes himself up, grabbing his satchel from the floor next to his bed, and stands, putting his phone in his pocket again, making his way to his desk and grabbing a thick sketchbook and several pencils and small brushes, tucking them into the bag with a small watercolour palette. He stands back and scans his desk, scouring it for anything else he might need. He tosses in an eraser before closing the bag. 

He hears the front door open and a boy’s voice call, “Hello?” 

Milan yells back, “Robbe!” loudly, and Lucas opens his door, looking down the hall to see a brown-haired boy wearing a beanie greeting Milan, smiling as Milan pecks his cheeks. The boy, Robbe, Lucas assumes, steps through the threshold as Milan hugs the boy behind him, a tall boy with white hair. He steps past and follows Robbe to the living room, Robbe reaching behind himself to hold the boy’s hand. Another boy steps in, a boy with curly hair and a big smile, and hugs Milan before he’s pushed out of the way by another, a boy with brown skin and short hair. He’s pretending to cry as he and Milan embrace each other. 

“I missed you so much,” the boy sobs and Milan laughs as the curly-haired boy shakes his head and follows Robbe to the living room. 

“You know you can come to see me whenever right?” 

“Oh, be careful with that,” the boy states, dropping the act, and he pulls back, pausing so Milan can kiss his cheek. “I might just move into Robbe’s room.” 

“You’re too late, it’s taken.” Milan looks back, seeing Lucas, and nods, gesturing for him to come forward. “My cousin’s moved in.” 

Lucas grabs his bag before moving into the hall, dropping it to the floor by the front door.

“Moyo,” the boy says, and Lucas shakes his hand. 

“Lucas.”

“What are you doing outside? Come in,” Milan says, leaning out the door, speaking to someone Lucas can’t see, and Moyo steps to the side to watch Milan. 

“Sorry, I’m texting my mom,” a familiar voice says, and somehow Lucas’s heart drops and flies at the same time. “How are you?” 

Jens steps through the door, a hand on Milan’s shoulder, and kisses Milan’s cheek as Milan kisses his. 

“I’m alright, sweetie.” 

Jens tucks his phone into his pocket as Milan shuts the door behind him and looks at Lucas, his eyes widening as he does a short double-take, but before Lucas can greet him or smile, Jens is holding his hand out. 

“I’m Jens.” 

Lucas shakes his hand hesitantly and furrows his brow at him. Jens doesn’t respond, his face blank. 

“Lucas.” He gives Jens a tight smile as Milan turns to them, and Jens smiles back, the look on his face, his demeanour, unfamiliar, and kind of unnerving. Jens lets go of his hand and steps past him, following Moyo. 

“Cutie, isn’t he?” Milan asks, seeing Lucas’s eyes follow Jens. 

“I— Yeah. Yeah, he’s pretty.”

“Sander, Lucas is an artist,” Milan says as they enter the living room, and the white-haired boy looks at him, smiling and raising his eyebrows. Robbe’s leg is strewn across his lap, and Sander’s hands run up and down it as Robbe tosses his arm around his shoulders, running his fingers through his hair. 

“Yeah?” 

Lucas nods, glancing at Jens, who is sitting on the floor, and smiles. 

“What do you do?” Sander asks. 

“Uhm…”Lucas sits across from them on the floor. “Portraits, mostly.”

“Aren’t those really hard?” Moyo asks from his spot on the sofa. 

“Eh, depends.” Lucas shrugs. “I also do some landscapes and stuff.”

“Have you ever done any live studies?” Sander asks.

“I’ve done, like, drawing people in front of me,” Lucas says. He can feel Jens watching him speak, and the air feels tight, tense, but none of the other guys seems to notice. “I’ve never done a nude study. I’d like to, though.” 

“We do those at school sometimes, they’re fun.” 

Lucas nods. 

“You’ve probably seen one of Sander’s pieces, Lucas,” Milan says, and Lucas looks at Sander, confused. Sander is laughing softly, looking away, and Robbe pokes his cheek. The others are laughing, looking like they’re teasing Sander. Lucas can see Jens’s smile in his peripheral vision. “Sander, tell him!” 

“Ahh…” Sander shakes his head, adjusting his seat on the sofa. “You’ve been down by the canal right?” Lucas nods. “You know that...giant mural of a face—” Robbe snickers next to him, “—it kinda looks like it’s coming out of the wall?” 

Lucas thinks for a second before he remembers it, a mural of a boy’s face, breaking through the brick wall, the break shaped like a heart. He remembers staring at it for a while, wondering about the story behind it. 

“No fucking way.” Lucas’s jaw drops as he smiles, and Sander nods, grinning bashfully. “That was _you?_ ” 

“That was him,” Robbe says fondly, leaning over and kissing Sander’s pink cheek. 

“Oh!” Lucas looks at Robbe’s face, really looking at him for the first time. “Oh, shit!” He points at him, realisation dawning on his face. “It’s you! I thought I recognized you from somewhere.” 

“Yeah,” Sander says as the boys all laugh. “My model.” He pats Robbe’s leg and Robbe gives him a look. 

Lucas catches Jens glancing in his direction at the words, but ignores him. He zones out for a second, his eyes trained on the coffee table in front of him, the awkwardness between him and Jens becoming overwhelming. 

“Do you guys want anything?” he says, accidentally interrupting Moyo. “Water, beer? I think we have cola?” He looks at Milan for confirmation and Milan nods. 

“Can I have a cola?” Sander asks, and Lucas sees that his and Robbe’s legs are now tangled, Sander’s arm around Robbe’s waist nearly pulling him into his lap. 

“Beer,” Robbe says, looking at Lucas as he stands, looking ta Moyo. 

“Same.”

“Aaron?” Milan asks, and the curly-haired boy looks up from his phone. 

“Uh, beer. Thanks.” He shoots Lucas a smile, and Lucas looks to Jens, trying to act normal. 

“Oh, I can help you carry everything.” Jens uses the coffee table to push himself up and Lucas nods, turning to the kitchen. 

“What about me?” Milan says behind him. 

“You live here, I’m not hosting you.” 

The door shuts behind him and Jens, drowning out the boys’ snickering and Lucas can feel Jens’s eyes on him. He ignores him, going to the fridge and pulling out a soda can and a beer, setting them on the counter before reaching in again. He doesn’t plan on talking to Jens. After all, they’re strangers now. 

“Lucas.” Jens’s voice is low and rough. 

And just like that, Lucas’s vow snaps like a taut rubber band. 

“Is there a reason we suddenly don’t know each other?” he says, his back to Jens as he pulls out another beer. 

“Look, I don’t…” Jens trails off and sighs. Lucas pulls out two more beers and slams the fridge shut, turning around. His lips press together as he looks at Jens, raising his eyebrows and tilting his chin slightly. They stare at each other for a second and Jens’s shoulders drop, looking across the room at Lucas but looking like he’s looking _up_ at him.

“Why don’t I know you?’ Lucas asks, and Jens doesn’t answer. 

Sudden anger flares in Lucas and he looks away, tossing his hands. 

“Whatever, Jens,” he says, resigned, and he turns to pick up the can and bottles on the counter, managing to pick up the bottle opener next to them, before turning back to Jens and stepping forward. He shoves a bottle into Jens’s hand, and apparently, no matter how angry Lucas is, Jens’s touch still brings sparks, because their fingers brush and Lucas nearly jerks his hand away, feeling like he’s been electrocuted.

“Lu, just—” 

Lucas’s heart flutters at the nickname, and he pulls the kitchen door open, stepping into the living room. 

“—to Noor?” Aaron’s voice says.

“We’re _friends_.” Moyo sounds exasperated, and all the guys hum, cocking their heads at him. 

“Are you sure?” Milan says as Lucas leans in front of him, handing Sander the can and Robbe a bottle. 

“I’m out,” Lucas says, nodding as Moyo says “Thanks,” after taking a bottle and the opener from Lucas’s hand. “I’m gonna try and paint before it rains.”

Jens takes his place on the floor, reaching up as Moyo passes him the bottle opener. 

“Ooh, have fun,” Sander says, wincing as the can cracks open. 

Lucas forces a smile and waves to them, leaving the room, not looking back. He snatches his bag from the ground and his jacket from the hook on the wall, and then swings the door open, calling “It was nice meeting you!” He gets a small round of “Bye!” in response. 

If he had looked back while leaving the room, he would have seen Jens’s eyes following him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, the beer bottle shaking in his hand.


	9. Can I Talk To You?

Jens left the get-together a few hours after Lucas did, before any of the others left. His excuse, which he made up on the spot, was that he forgot his mom asked him to watch Lotte while she took his grandpa around the city. The lie was fucking seamless, and they ate it up with no suspicion, with handshakes and fistbumps, and kiss on the cheek from Milan.

Every lie he ever tells these days is fucking seamless. He’s gotten good at it, making up reasons and excuses, impromptu stories that everyone always believed. The lies are hardly ever planned out, most of them responses to unexpected questions. Reasons he couldn’t go to a party, reasons he left early, reasons he couldn’t film the vlog that day, reasons he didn’t go to a school another day. 

None of them elaborate, just things like headaches, homework, his mom needing him. None of them impactful, none of them harmful. 

Until Sunday. 

He’s never felt this guilty about a lie, never had to really force it out. He’s never felt the lie, heavy on his tongue, heavy in his stomach, heavy in his heart. He’s never regretted the words before they even left his mouth, though in this case, it was just two words. 

“I’m Jens.” 

And fuck, if it wasn’t the heaviest lie he’s told.

Most people just look at him and say “Okay,” after a lie, just let it slide without a second thought. They let Jens go. But Lucas _knew_. He knew, and Jens knew he knew, from the furrow of his brow when Milan wasn’t looking, from the hesitation in his handshake. 

“I’m Jens.” 

Just his name. 

It was enough to make Jens sick to his stomach, to make his heart beat faster, though he managed to keep his face blank, a skill picked up from years of practice. It was enough to make his hands shake. 

Lucas knew he was lying about meeting him, but Jens doesn’t know if Lucas knew that the introduction itself was a lie. That he wasn’t really Jens, not really. 

The lie itself makes him feel sick, but how Lucas was after, how he avoided Jens’s eyes, how he looked at him when he asked what he wanted, how he ignored him in the kitchen until Jens said his name, made every cell in Jens’s body ache. 

It makes his body ache now, as he sits on the halfpipe on his skateboard, the stars peering out of the dark sky above him. He buries his face in his hand. 

“Why don’t I know you?” 

But how is he supposed to explain to Lucas that he _does_ know him? That he’s the only one that really knows him? 

There are different versions of Jens, and the one he is with Lucas… It’s the most natural, the easiest. There’s nothing forced, nothing hidden. 

The stars blur as his eyes well up with tears, and he sighs, tilting his head backwards. 

He doesn’t know how to tell Lucas how _real_ he makes Jens feel, how he makes Jens feels like he exists. How Jens feels like he doesn’t have to pretend anything, doesn’t have to hide anything, doesn’t have to show only half of himself. 

Jesus. 

He’s known this boy a few weeks, and now three days go by without seeing him, without touching his hand, without so much as a text from him, and Jens’s heart fucking _hurts_.

And it’s not like he can talk about it because the only person he wants to talk to is Lucas. And Lucas hasn’t even opened his _Can I talk to you?_ message. 

Jens checks again, wiping his cheek before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He checks the time after seeing that he hasn’t opened it (and feeling his stomach sink). It’s late. Probably late enough that Dilan is asleep, he thinks, and he stands, grabbing his backpack and skateboard. He takes a second, squeezing his eyes shut before dropping the board and taking off down the road to go home.


	10. Jens Jens

Lucas ignores Jens’t texts as long as he can. Which isn’t really that long. There are only three when he finally opens them. 

One from Sunday afternoon: _Lucas, I’m sorry_

It was sent about five minutes after Lucas left the flat, and Lucas had seen it in his notifications, and then he ignored it, pressing _clear_. He tried to focus on the painting, but his hand was a little shaky. He tossed the painting into the corner of his room when he got home (very late), not bothering to make sure it was dry. It’s still there.

Another from Tuesday night: _Can I talk to you?_

He’d ignored this one too. What is Jens going to say? What is there to say? Jens pretended not to know him, had lied to all of his friends, had lied to _Lucas_ , and it seemed almost easy for him, seemed effortless to be this boy, this Jens that Lucas doesn’t know.

And the third from morning: _Will you still come today?_

Which reminded Lucas that it’s Thursday.

He didn’t open the text, didn’t tell Jens he would, even though he decided to subconsciously. And just as the sun begins to set, just as the sky turns cotton-candy-coloured, he set out to leave, nervously checking his messy curls in his mirror, even though he’s supposed to be mad. 

Something tells him he won’t be able to stay mad for long, though, as he makes his way to Jens’s dance studio. Maybe its that even though he’s mad, there’s still a flutter of excitement in his stomach, still looking forward to looking at Jens’s face, even if he’s glaring at it. 

The flutter grows until there’s a flock of birds in his stomach when he sees Jens standing outside in his grey hoodie, the hood covering his dark hair, talking to his friends. Lucas stops, his hands in his pockets, and he watches him, seeing how different he is now than he was on Sunday with the guys. He seems lighter, more playful, as he laughs when the red-haired girl throws her arm around his neck and rubs her knuckles against the top of his head. Jens pushes her away, into the tall, brown-skinned boy who lifts her up as another girl watches, laughing. Lucas has to fight a smile when he sees Jens laugh softly. 

The boy lets go of her but she clings to him, her arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala, and he shakes hands with Jens, bumping their fists together before turning away, and the girl waves over his shoulder. Jens bends down slightly so the other girl can press a little kiss to his cheek, and he waves back before she joins the others, jumping on the boy’s back so he’s carrying both of them. He doesn’t seem to struggle too much, though, both girls seem fairly petite, and he’s tall, with broad shoulders that they both grip as he moves down the sidewalk. 

Lucas’s eyes travel from the three to Jens and he sees Jens’s chest move as Jens sighs. Jens is watching them too, though his smile falters until it’s gone. He looks up at the sky, and Lucas considers how to approach him, hesitating, but then Jens is looking at him, his mouth dropping open slightly and his eyebrows raising in surprise, and Lucas moves forward to meet him. Jens’s hood looks like it’s framing his face. 

“You came,” Jens says as Lucas steps in front of him.

“You asked me to,” he replies quietly. Jens looks at him for a silent second, looks into his eyes, before looking away, over Lucas’s shoulder and then to his right, looking at all the dancers around them, though the number is dwindling. 

“Uhm…” He reaches out and gently grabs Lucas’s arm, pulling him toward the alley. He stops at the entrance, turning to look at him, and lets go of him abruptly. “I don’t really…” His eyes search Lucas’s, flicking back and forth between them and Lucas’s heart soften more than it already was. 

“Just—” Lucas doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to say. “Just explain… what’s up.”

“I—” Jens swallows and looks away. “I’m not good at this.” 

“Try.” Lucas sounds colder than he intended. “Please.” 

“I really like you.” 

Lucas doesn’t allow himself to smile and doesn’t say anything. 

“And you _do_ know me,” Jens continues. “You know the real me, you’re the only one. And I don’t want to fuck everything up by…” He gestures aimlessly, looking away. “Fucking up.” 

Jens sighs shakily and looks into his eyes again. 

“They know Jens,” he says after a few seconds. “You know… Jens Jens.” He shrugs awkwardly and Lucas can’t fight the smile anymore. It crawls across his face, a soft smile that Jens watches, and when Jens smiles hopefully, Lucas steps closer, reaching up and wrapping his arms around his neck. His eyes close when he feels Jens’s hands creep over his waist to the small of his back, and Jens pulls his closer, taking a deep breath. 

“You’re not supposed to forgive me that easily,” Jens says quietly after a few seconds, and Lucas laughs into his neck. 

“You make it hard to stay mad at you.” He pulls away, slowly detaching himself, and presses a quick kiss to Jens’s jaw as he does. Jens drops his hands, looking at Lucas with the softest of smiles on his face. 

“I don’t have weed today, but…” Lucas nods at the dumpster. 

“Okay.”

Lucas smiles and makes his way to it, pulling himself up to sit against the wall, and watches as Jens pulls his bag over his head, tossing it next to Lucas. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Lucas asks as Jens pulls himself up as moves his bag away so he can sit next to him. 

“Yeah, of course.”

Lucas thinks for a second, his mouth twisting to the side. 

“Are you Jens Jens when you’re with your ballet friends?” 

“Hm.” Jens drops his head against the wall. “I think I’m… the same amount of Jens as with the guys, just…” He pauses, wincing as he thinks. “A different kind?” 

Lucas nods, and Jens continues, turning slightly so he’s facing him.

“Like there’s one Jens with the guys and friends from school, and another with my ballet friends.” He looks down, furrowing his brow and Lucas reaches out, running his fingers down the back of his hand before lacing them with Jens’s. Jens looks at their hands, moving his around Lucas’s twisting Lucas’s ring. “But I only see my ballet friends once a week for a few hours, unless there’s a recital coming up, so I’m not that Jens that often.” 

“Hm.” 

“So it’s not really like I’m pretending, or faking a personality when I’m with my friends, you know?” 

“Just not showing the whole truth?” Lucas says, and Jens smiles, as he remembers their past conversation. 

“Yeah, exactly.” 

“Do you think you’ll ever be Jens Jens with your friends?” Lucas asks as he plays with Jens’s fingers. 

“Mm… Maybe. I’d like to.” He’s quiet for a second. “I don’t really know how it would happen, though, like if one day I just… started acting weird. Real. They’d think it’s weird.” 

“Yeah. I’m not Lucas Lucas with my friends back home. Maybe I’ll just show up and say Antwerp changed me.” 

Jens chuckles quietly. His fingers twist in Lucas’s until he runs his thumb over the dark purple polish on Lucas’s nail, not saying anything. 

“You make me feel real,” he says quietly, almost under his breath.

Lucas smiles and looks at him, and then Jens pulls his hand out of his, pulling his hoodie up over his mouth, and his eyes squeeze shut as he yawns. Lucas begins to giggle and he drops his head onto Jens’s shoulder. 

“Sorry,” Jens says breathlessly. 

Lucas laughs harder. 

“You ruined a really good moment,” he says against Jens’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry!” 

Lucas pulls back to see Jens looking at him blearily.

“I’m just...so tired,” Jens says, and he _sounds_ tired. 

“Why?” He pulls Jens’s hand back into his lap, running his thumb across his knuckles. 

“Ugh.” Jens drops his head onto Lucas’s shoulder now, and Lucas lays his head on top of Jens’s. “I told you my grandpa’s visiting right?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I’ve been staying out late every night, just wandering and skating to avoid him.” 

“Hm. Why?” 

Jens sighs. 

“Because he’s shitty. He left my mom when she was a kid and only came around a few years ago.” 

“Oh,” Lucas says, wrinkling his nose. 

“And he kept complaining about Lotte.” He sounds sad.

“Lotte is…”

“My little sister.” 

“Why would he complain about her?” 

“Mm.” Jens pauses and Lucas waits, tracing the veins that he can see on the back of his hand. “She has autism. And he hated that she wouldn’t hug him, or look at his eyes.” He’s talking slowly. “Sometimes she doesn’t talk, and he kept saying she needed to act her age.” A beat of silence. “She was only, like, five.” 

“Jesus.” 

“Yeah. And he kept talking shit about the ballet, kept telling me it's for pussies. He slapped me when I talked back once.” Lucas squeezes his hand, angry at this man he’s never met. “And kept telling my mom that Lotte and I would be better off if she found some guy to marry.”

“This guy sounds like a real piece of shit.” 

Jens snickers softly. 

“Yeah. So I’m avoiding him completely. I think I’ve gone home at like midnight for the past few nights.”

“Mm. You still need to sleep.” 

“I am!”

“Not enough, especially if you’re waking up early for school.”

Jens groans dramatically and lifts his head, looking at Lucas. 

“It’s not good for your grades. Or your dancing, you need energy to dance,” Lucas says knowingly, raising his eyebrows, and Jens smiles. 

Jens lets go of his hands and Lucas watches as Jens moves on the lid of the dumpster, until he lays his head on Lucas’s lap. 

“You’re gonna sleep right now?” Lucas asks, amused, as Jens adjusts his hoodie. 

“Mm-hmm.” 

Lucas’s hands are raised until Jens is settled, looking up at Lucas, and he drops one hand to Jens’s waist, sliding it over the thick fabric of his hoodie and the other to Jens’s head. He traces his fingertips over Jens’s face, his hairline, to his brows, over his closed eyes, down the bridge of his nose, over his lips, which curve into a smile, and around his chin and jawline. 

“What are you doing?” Jens asks quietly. 

Lucas traces his cheekbone before answering. 

“Drawing you.” 

Jens’s smile grows and he reaches out, grabbing Lucas’s hand from his waist and lifting it to his face, pressing the back of his hand to his cheek. 

“Lu?” 

“Mm-hmm?” Lucas smiles even though Jens can’t see it. 

“I missed you,” Jens whispers, and turns his face, pressing his lips to Lucas’s hand. 

“I missed you too,” Lucas breathes. It feels like his heart has almost stopped beating. 

He knows the moment Jens falls asleep, Jens’s grip on Lucas’s hand loosening enough that Lucas pulls his hand away without disrupting Jens, and he slides it to his chest, just barely able to feel his heartbeat. It doesn’t seem to bother Jens when Lucas keeps tracing his face. He does it carefully like Jens is a piece of priceless art. (He is.) Lucas listens to Jens breath, the long, quiet inhale and the sharp, heavy exhale, and feels it on his skin when he traces the curve of Jens’s lips. He pulls his hand away eventually, and puts it to his side, looking at Jens’s face fondly, studying him. The way his lashes spread like fans, the mole next to his eye (which Lucas would kiss if he could), the slight, almost unnoticeable stubble on his jaw. 

Striking. 

Jens takes a sharp breath and exhales slowly before turning his head and rolling his body, and Lucas slips his hand over Jens’s waist. Jens’s hands move as he takes another breath, one coming up next to his face and absently gripping Lucas’s hoodie, the other wrapping around himself, his fingers brushing Lucas’s. Lucas runs his fingers over the back of his hand softly so as not to wake him up, and Jens’s spread, letting Lucas lace them together, Lucas smiles down at him.

Jens turns his face into Lucas more and his hood hides his face. Lucas lifts his free hand and pushes it back gently until he can see him again. 

\---

It’s totally dark out by the time Jens wakes up, and by that time, Lucas had drifted off as well, his head laying on the wall, his fingers still laced with Jens’s. He wakes to a buzzing sound and Jens saying, “Oh, shit,” under his breath as he pulls his hand from Lucas’s and reaches into the pocket of his hoodie. Lucas laughs softly and watches as Jens answers the phone, dropping his head back onto Lucas’s lap. 

“Hey, I’m—” He’s interrupted by a muffled, rapid voice on the other end that Lucas can hear, and Jens’s eyes widen and he grins. 

“My mom,” he mouths and Lucas copies him, wincing as Jens tries not to laugh into the microphone. 

Lucas slides his hand to Jens’s chest as Jens listens and Jens holds his hand over Lucas’s, trailing his fingertips over his skin. Lucas shivers slightly. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m sorry,” Jens says, closing his eyes, and Lucas snickers, lifting his other hand and running his fingers over Jens’s forehead before slipping them under hid hood into his hair. 

“I understand—” Jens gets out before he’s interrupted again. After a few seconds, he tries again. “Mom, I know, I understand, I’m sorry. I won’t stay out this late again.” 

Lucas presses his lips together, suppressing laughter. 

“Okay… Okay, I love you.” Jens opens his eyes and looks at the sky. “Okay, I love you.” After a second he pulls the phone away and drops his hand on his stomach. He looks at Lucas.

“Too late.” 

“It’s pretty late.” 

“Yeah.” Jens sits up and Lucas’s hands fall away. They look at each other, smiling softly. Lucas wants to kiss him. 

“I think that was the best I’ve ever slept.” Jens sounds groggy, his words slurring together like he’s tipsy. 

“Yeah? I’m the magic pillow?” 

“Mm.” Jens smiles and closes his eyes, quirking his eyebrows up quickly. 

But if he kisses him now, he doesn’t think he’d be able to stop. 

“Am I gonna be able to see you before next Thursday?” he asks as Jens pulls his bag over his shoulders and jumps down. 

“I don’t know,” Jens says, lifting his hand, and Lucas takes it before hopping down. Jens doesn’t let go. “My mom just said she wants me home to spend time with my grandpa.”

Lucas wrinkles his nose as they move into the sidewalk. Under the streetlight, Jens stops and turns to look at him, their fingers linked between them. 

“I’ll text you if I’m free at all,” Jens says. 

“Okay.” 

And Lucas really, _really_ wants to kiss him. 

Like a lot. 

“Bring a skateboard on Thursday, I wanna take you to a park,” Jens says, oblivious to the turmoil in Lucas’s mind. 

“Your favourite park?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

Just one wouldn’t hurt, would it?

“And maybe bring a jacket, I think it’s supposed to rain.” 

“I will.” 

It’s like they’re both wasting time. 

“I’ll see you later?” Jens says, not making any moves to leave. “Maybe? Hopefully?” 

“Yeah,” Lucas says quietly. 

Just one. For now. 

He lifts up to his tiptoes and raises his chin, leaning in, and presses his lips to Jens’s. Only for a second. And he pulls away. 

Jens’s eyes are half-closed and unfocused, his mouth hanging ajar. His lips are just beginning to curve into a small half-smile when Lucas squeezes his hand and steps back. 

“Bye.” 

He hears a quiet “Bye,” in response as he walks away, and he smiles to himself. 

He’s still smiling when he gets home, still smiling as he brushes his teeth, as he changes into an oversized t-shirt and shorts, still smiling as he turns off his lights, still smiling as he lays on his back, and as he looks at the ceiling, and as he falls asleep.


	11. Pink

Lucas gives Jens this feeling that doesn’t really make sense. 

A feeling that makes every cell in his body feel like it’s been set alight, makes his stomach feel like it’s completely filled with butterflies, and his lungs too, making it difficult to breathe. A feeling that makes his hands shake and still simultaneously, that makes his heartbeat slow and quicken. It makes him feel _seen_ , make him feel _real_ , and _alive_ , and…

It’s inexplicable. 

Jens doesn’t know what it is, really. There’s just something about him. Maybe there’s something about the way his eyes shine and sparkle, those blue eyes of his, those eyes that seem like they could look right through Jens but don’t. Those eyes that look right at him so intensely it’s like they’re studying him, like they’re memorising him. 

Maybe there’s something about the way his freckles are scattered across his face. It looks like someone flicked a paintbrush at his face, like he’s a work of art himself. It’s like the freckles have been shifted every time Jens looks at them, like they’re brand new. Someday Jens will finally have them memorised. 

Maybe there’s something about the way he carries himself, the way he stands, the way he looks around himself like he’s searching for something. (Jens doesn’t know what he’s looking for.) It’s like he’s looking for something that doesn’t exist, constantly searching, scouring everything he lays his eyes on. Sometimes it looks like he’s looking for beautiful, like he’s looking for a muse. He pushes his hands into his pockets, gently tosses his head to the side, and his curls move out of his face. (Though Jens would rather push them out of his face himself.) He twists his ring, sometimes pulling it off and turning it between his fingers, the fingers that also tug on the chains around his neck. 

Maybe there’s something about the way that hose fingers curl around Jens’s, how the very tips brush over his skin so lightly it’s like bugs crawling, like wind blowing, tickling softly. The way he feels the coldness of his ring against his skin, the metal becoming warm after a few seconds. The way his nails are always painted carefully, smooth colours all shiny and pretty.

Maybe there’s something in the way he moves his feet while he sits, swinging his foot back and forth by the ankle like he’s tapping it to music. Jens feels his foot thumping against the dumpster while they talk every time they sit there and could hear it under the table of the coffee shop, a steady rhythm that Lucas never seems to even notice. Comforting.

There’s definitely something in the way Lucas’s lips felt pressed to Jens’s, so soft and careful. (Everything Lucas does seems to be soft and careful.) The way his lips caught Jens’s lower lip for just a second, the way his hand came up and touched Jens’s chin gently before he pulled away, too soon for Jens to really react after his brain started working again.

Fuck.

Jens throws himself backwards on his bed, one leg hanging off and swinging as his lips press together and his eyes close like he’s reminiscing. 

As Lucas walked away from him, all he wanted to do was twirl him around and pull him in again, to press his mouth to Lucas’s, slide his fingers into his curls. Feel Lucas wrap his arms around Jens’s waist, feel Lucas’s breath as he kisses him over and over.

But he didn’t.

He watched Lucas walk away until he felt like he could finally move, and then he went home, smiling. He’d considered texting Lucas _So you’re just gonna kiss me and go, huh?_ but he didn’t do that either.

They haven’t talked about the kiss at all, like they’re pretending it didn’t even happen. (Except for the kissy emojis they send sometimes, but Jens doesn’t think those count.)

A door shuts outside Jens’s room and he sits up, holding himself up by leaning back on his hands, his eyes squinting sleepily at his door as he expects it to swing open.

“Jens!” his mother’s voice calls from the living room, and he sighs, rolling his eyes as he stands and opens his door. He stays in the door frame, watching as his mother sits on the sofa, putting her shoes on. 

“Yes?” 

“I’m taking Grandpa to some shops for the afternoon.” She finishes tying her shoes and walks over to him, stepping in front of him. “You’ll stay home for Lotte?” 

“Yeah, of course.” He shrugs and she reaches up, holding his face softly. 

“I don’t know when she’ll come out of her room, she had kind of a rough morning.” 

“That’s okay. I’ll check on her when you leave.” 

“Thanks, honey.” She get on her tiptoes and stretches up to press a kiss to his forehead. 

“We’re going?” Dilan says from the other side of the room. Jens didn’t even see him there, and he startles slightly before looking up. Dilan is standing by the front door. 

“Yep.” His mom pats his cheek and steps back, making her way to the door that Dilan is holding open now. “We’ll be back this evening. I love you!” She waves and Jens waves back.

“Bye, Jens!” Dilan calls. 

“Bye!”

The door is shut and Jens sighs, leaning his head against the door frame before he makes his way to Lotte’s room. He doesn’t knock on the door and instead calls her name softly. He hears a mumbled “Yes.”

“Can I open the door?” 

“Yes.”

He pushes the door open, leaning on the doorframe and looking at her. She’s laying on her back on the floor, her arms wrapped around a weighted pillow that’s on her chest. She looks at him for a second before looking back at the ceiling. Jens smiles at her long hair fanned around her head.

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah.”

“Promise?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything I can do?” 

She hums and pauses, her eyes jumping around on the ceiling. The light is off and her curtains are drawn, the room dim.

“Not right now.” Her tone is light and soft, so Jens doesn’t worry. 

“Okay. I’m in my room if you need me, okay?” 

“Yes.”

“Alright. I love you.”

She nods and he steps out, shutting the door softly. There’s a strict, but unspoken, no-slamming rule in the household. Jens has a habit now, of using both hands to shut doors, even at school and restaurants, resulting in his friends teasing. (But he doesn’t mind.) 

He goes back to his room and flops on his bed, covering his face with his arms. Maybe he’ll fall asleep, that would be nice. Lotte would wake him up if she has to. 

But he uncovers his face and sits up when his phone buzzes on his bedside table, and he reaches over, leaning on his arm, to pick it up without thinking. Addiction? Maybe. Whatever.

It’s a text from Lucas, and Jens’s heart flutters. 

_I’m so fucking bored, help me_

Jens sits up and messages him back. 

_me too_

He hesitates before typing again.

_call me?_

There’s a second before Lucas responds _:)_ and another before he calls him, and Jens’s eyes widen when he sees that it’s a video call, and he sits up further, quickly running his hands through his hair before answering, his heart beating wildly. 

“Hey.” 

Lucas is grinning at him, his blue eyes sparkling under the soft sunlight of his room.

“Hi.” Jens can hear his smile in his voice. 

“Where’s Milan?” Jens leans back on his headboard.

“Shopping with Zoë. And Senne’s out with friends.”

“So you’re all alone?” Jens feigns sadness.

“Yes.” Lucas pouts before snickering and shifting, the camera moving close to his face before pulling back. Jens can see all his freckles. “Where’s the grandpa?”

Jens makes a face. 

“Out with my mom. I’m home with Lotte, she’s chilling in her room right now.”

“Lotte sounds sweet.” 

“She is, I love her.” 

Lucas smiles. 

“How old is she?” 

“Eight.” 

“Oh!” Lucas jerks his chin back in surprise, raising his eyebrows. “I thought she was older for some reason.” 

“Nope.” 

“What do you guys do together? I don’t have any siblings, I don’t know how they work.”

Jens snorts. 

“Uhm… We watch movies together, homework, sometimes I’ll read to her, or explain my homework to her.” Lucas furrows his brows and Jens shrugs. “She likes it.”

Lucas pushes himself forward onto his stomach and sets his phone against something before resting his chin on his forearms. 

“What else?” 

“Sometimes we just lay on the floor in silence.” Jens smiles as he says it. “It comforts her and it’s really peaceful.” 

“Mm.” Lucas is smiling too. 

“And I play guitar for her. We have this kind of… system, I guess? She gives me a colour and I play something that’s that colour.”

Lucas is still smiling and he cocks his head, listening intently. 

“I don’t really know how to explain it, it’s like…” He sighs, looking away for a second. “Whatever colour she wants to hear, I’ll play, and sometimes it’s because she needs stimulation or something to focus on, and sometimes it’s because she’s sad or wants to hang out.”

“That’s really cool.”

Jens nods. He’s never explained it to anyone before, never had to put it into words. Their mom isn’t really a big part of the system, but sometimes she stands in the doorway and watches as Jens plays and Lotte rocks back and forth. 

“Will you play something for me?”

They stare at each other for a second.

“What colour?” 

“Oh, uhm…”

While Lucas thinks, Jens grabs a pillow and sets his phone on it. He gets up and gets his guitar before sitting again, and he fixes the phone when it falls as the mattress moves under his weight. 

“Pink.”

“Pink…” Jens repeats, smiling to himself. He presses his callused fingertips to the strings and plays a light, sort of playful tune, something that’s somehow between Für Elise and the Adam’s Family. When it’s done, he looks at the screen and sees Lucas smiling widely. 

“What song is that?” Lucas asks after a second.

“Oh, I don’t…” Jens shrugs. “Colour songs are all improvised.”

“You just made that up?” Lucas asks, his eyes wide. Jens nods, his cheeks heating. “Damn…”

“It’s fun,” Jens says, placing the guitar to the side, resting it against his bedside table. “I like seeing Lotte smile when I play, it’s the best part.”

“That’s so cute.”

“You know what you could do?” Jens picks the phone up and leans back, holding it in front of him. 

“What?”

“Paint something, with like, a main colour, and then I’ll play it for you.” 

Lucas beams excitedly, his eyebrows raising as his jaw drops. 

“Oh my God, I love that, we should absolutely do that.” 

“You can make it like, abstract or something,” Jens says and his voice trails off as his door opens slowly. He looks up, away from the phone. 

“Jens?” Lotte says tentatively as she steps into the room. She looks at his curtains after spotting him on the bed. 

“What is it, ladybug?”

“I need help.”

“With what?”

“Math homework.”

“Is that Lotte?” Lucas asks quietly and Jens nods. “Hi, Lotte!” he calls, and Jens smiles. Lotte makes a confused face, her brows pulling together as she frowns. Jens beckons to her. 

“Come say hi.”

Lotte steps next to Jens and he moves his arm so they don’t touch. 

“Hi,” Lucas says again, waving. 

“His name is Lucas,” Jens says before she can ask who he is.

“Hi, Lucas,” she says quickly, and Lucas beams happily. “Will you help me?” she asks, stepping back and looking at Jens. 

“Yeah, of course. Where do you want to do it?”

She takes a second before shrugging.

“Do you want to do it in the living room or do you want to bring it in here?”

Her eyes scan the ceiling before she answers. 

“Here.” 

“Go on and get it.”

She nods and leaves without shutting the door.

“I gotta go,” Jens says, looking at Lucas. Lucas is smiling, his face and eyes soft as he looks at Jens. 

“Okay. We’ll call later?” 

“Of course.” 

“Okay.” 

They gaze at each other for another second.

“Bye,” Jens says softly and Lucas puckers his lips, blowing a kiss to the camera, saying a low “Bye,” before he hangs up. 

Jens takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and tilting his head back.

They’ll call later, he thinks blissfully.

He puts his phone back on his bedside table as Lotte comes back in, carrying several papers, pencils, and a blanket.

“Floor or bed?” he asks.

“Floor.” 

He tugs a blanket from the bed and wraps it around himself as he plops himself on the floor, and Lotte giggles, dropping the papers and pencils. As Jens picks up the first paper and reads the problem, Lotte copies him, wrapping her blanket around her shoulders before sitting. 

“So what do you already know?” Jens asks.

“I start with twelve…”


	12. I Don't Care, Do You?

They did end up calling again. Of course, it was hours later, and by that time, the sky was dim, the sun a dying light bulb as the moon peeked out from between clouds. Jens had told Lucas that Lotte was in bed and his grandpa and his mom were chatting in the kitchen over dinner, and Lucas had said that Milan was probably out at a club and Zoë and Senne were on a date, to which Jens laughed and held his hand out, wiggling it back and forth, saying, “Different family dynamics.”

Jens had thrown himself on his bed (Lucas smiles at his hair as it flopped) and said, “Okay, I showed you my guitar, show me some art.” 

So Lucas did.

Just some paintings he had laying around, some paint-splattered canvases, some portraits of people who don’t exist. Lucas didn’t show him the portraits of Jens, obviously. 

He couldn’t help but smile at Jens’s reaction to them, the way he sat up and pulled his phone closer to his face as Lucas held up the first one. Jens was smiling too, his brows raised in an expression of wonder as he gazed at the colours. There was an air of curiosity around him, even though Lucas was only seeing him through a screen.

“Who are they?” he’d asked after the third or fourth portrait.

“Just faces I make up, I guess.” 

“They’re beautiful,” Jens breathed, looking closer.

“Thank you,” Lucas replied softly, reframing from telling Jens that _he’s_ beautiful. 

Even though he really is. 

Lucas also reframed from taking a screenshot as Jens looked, his eyes wide and shining, his lips parted, despite how tempted he was. 

But Jens really is beautiful. 

The way his soft, fluffy hair falls on his forehead (Lucas had to hold back from pushing it out of the way), the way he runs his fingers through it when he’s nervous. He does it often. It’s adorable. The way his eyes shine and sparkle under light, no matter if it’s sunlight, moonlight, streetlight, the lights of his bedroom. The way his lashes are so dark it looks like he’s wearing eyeliner (which, is Lucas is honest, would look incredible on Jens). The way his cheeks flush sometimes when Lucas looks at him, either soft pink or bright red, and how he looks away as he blushes, his smiles shy and bashful. And those _lips_. The way they felt against Lucas’s was beautiful, those few, short (too short) seconds, where the world felt like it had disappeared. 

Part of him had hoped Jens would pull him back, would crash his mouth against Lucas’s, would press his hands to Lucas’s face and neck, and wouldn’t let go. 

But Jens looked too… blissed out to do anything, so Lucas just squeezed his hand. 

Lucas doesn’t know when he’ll kiss him again. Maybe he’ll wait for Jens to kiss him. 

Even though he wants to kiss him outside the studio again, wants to push past the dancers, push Jens’s friends out of the way, reach up and pull Jens down to meet him. 

Jens doesn’t see him at first, so Lucas takes the opportunity to admire him.

Jens had on a red hoodie (red looks good on him), a dark jacket over it, with jeans and sneakers, a skateboard tucked under his arm, a smile on his face as the red-haired girl says something. 

Jens’s friends seem nice. There’s definitely something between the guy and the curly-haired girl. Lucas can see it in the way they glance at each other as they laugh, the way he fingers linger just a second too long as she fixes his collar that didn’t really need to be fixed. Lucas wonders if that’s what he and Jens look like. 

Lucas rolls his skateboard back and forth with his foot as he watches, and he grins as Jens laughs, loud and unfiltered. The red-haired girl shoves him, laughing as well, and he tries to catch her arms, but she’s walking away. Lucas hears her voice, a throaty, scratchy voice, yell, “See you next week, asshole!” and Jens yells back, “Love you-u-u!”

Lucas shakes his head, laughing, as Jens hugs the curly-haired girl, pressing a quick kiss to the top of her head, and hugs the other boy, knocking their shoulders together as they pull apart. Lucas catches Jens giving the boy a pointed look, nodding at the girl, who has begun to walk away. They communicate nonverbally, the boy giving Jens a look back before Jens pushes him so he falls into her. Jens covers his mouth in a sarcastic _oops_ gesture as the boy glares at him, and then he wraps his arm around the girl’s shoulders softly as they walk away.

Jens watches them for a second before he turns and catches Lucas’s eye, smiling like he already knew he was there. Lucas grins and puts his weight on his skateboard, kicking off and skating until he’s in front of Jens, who reaches out to stop his as he gets close. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi.”

He considers leaning up and kissing him quickly, but he doesn’t.

“Are they dating?” he asks instead, nodding to the two who are just beginning to disappear from his sight. 

Jens looks at him in confusion before looking at where Lucas is looking and saying, “Oh,” chuckling as he looks back at him.

“Not officially, but it’s obvious they like each other isn’t it?”

“Mm-hmm.” 

“That’s Damien and Rosa,” Jens continues, glancing back at them. “You should meet them sometimes, I think you’ll like them. Especially Rosa.”

“Why?” Lucas asks curiously.

Jens hums as he thinks, scanning Lucas’s face. 

“She’s soft-spoken.” He thinks again and pushes a curl out of Lucas’s face that he hadn’t noticed had fallen. “She acts like a ballerina even when she’s not in the studio.” 

“The others don’t?” 

“Lena definitely doesn’t.”

“Red hair?” 

Jens laughs, nodding. 

“What does she act like?” 

“Uhm…” Jens looks away, shrugging slightly. “She’s very… punk.” 

Lucas laughs.

“But you’d like her too, I think, she’s fun to talk to.” 

They gaze at each other for a minute before Jens quirks his eyebrows. 

“Ready to go?” 

“Where are the guys?” Lucas asks as Jens starts down the sidewalk, following on his own board. They skate past a few pedestrians, a couple with a small child, an old woman wearing a pearl necklace. 

“Some party or whatever,” Jens calls over the sound of their wheels on the rough pavement.

Lucas smiles at the idea that Jens would rather skate with him than go to “some party.”

They stop at a skate park and Lucas stops, taking a picture on his phone before following Jens, who sits on a halfpipe, taking his bag off and setting it to his side. He looks up at Lucas, smiling, and Lucas could die from how cute he is. 

“Do a trick,” Jens says, nodding to the space in front of him, and Lucas scoffs.

“Now?”

“Yeah.” Jens gives him a look like _What else?_

Lucas looks away, only half-trying to suppress a grin, and he secedes, sighing as he jumps down into the halfpipe. He’s aware of Jens’s eyes on him as he does the trick, desperately hoping, _praying_ that he doesn’t fuck it up. 

And he doesn’t.

He looks up at Jens when it’s done, and Jens is clapping, saying, “Ooooh,” as he watches Lucas run and jump up, tossing his board as he catches himself and pulls himself up next to Jens. 

“Good?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Broke my arm trying to do that once.” 

“ _What?_ ”

Lucas laughs as Jens’s eyes widen and his head turns to look at him. 

“Yep.”

“And you still did it now?” 

“Well yeah, I had to impress you, _obviously_.” He looks away, reaching out and pulling his board closer. 

“Well it worked, I am thoroughly impressed.”

Lucas looks at him, cocking his head as Jens smiles softly. Really, the only word for the way Lucas looks at Jens is _admire_. He lifts a hand and touches the small gold hoop hanging from Jens’s ear, rubbing it between his index finger and thumb. Jens doesn’t react, his eyes locked on Lucas’s face.

Lucas takes a breath to say something, but Jens interrupts him.

“Don’t say it.”

Lucas blinks in confusion, his fingers stilling on Jens’s earring, before he realises with an, “Oh,” and a sharp laugh, pulling his hand away as he turns away, laughing. 

“I wasn’t going to say it.” 

“I know you were.”

“I literally wasn’t!” He pushes Jens’s shoulder, giggling, and Jens catches his hand, holding it for a second before pushing it away. “I wasn’t gonna say—”

“No!” 

“God was having a good day when he made you!” Lucas manages to say as Jens pushes him, the words cutting between laughter, and he falls, catching and pulling himself back up. 

“That’s what you get,” Jens says, even though he extended his arms on instinct when Lucas fell.

“I really wasn’t going to say it, I didn’t even think about it.” 

“Then what _were_ you going to say?” Jens asks, obviously not believing him.

“I don’t know, that I like your earring or something.” 

“I know you like my earring.” 

“Oh, yeah?” Lucas reaches out and touches it again. “Is that why you’re wearing it every time I see you?” 

“ _No_ ,” Jens says defensively. 

“No?”

“I wear it because it’s my _thing_.”

Lucas laughs. 

“That’s how people know you, as the earring guy?” 

“Yes, exactly,” Jens says as he laughs.

“Is it in your name?” 

Jens laughs harder and Lucas marvels at how his eyes squint under his smile. 

“Yes, my name is Jens Earring Stoffels.” 

“You were born and your mom just went ‘Oh, his vibes…’”

Jens leans forward as he laughs, falling against Lucas. 

“Yeah, I came out of the womb and she just _knew_ I was going to be an earring guy.” 

“You mean you weren’t born with the earring?” 

“You’re stupid.” 

“I’m hilarious.”

They look at each other and Jens has his lips pressed together to stop himself from laughing. 

“He really was, though,” Lucas teases, tilting his head and raising his eyebrows, and Jens rolls his eyes dramatically. “He was!” Lucas lifts a hand and gently touches the mole next to Jens’s eye. “He’s a true artist.” 

Jens gives a quiet chuckle as Lucas trails his finger across his forehead, much like he did as Jens slept on his lap, and Jens shakes his head softly. 

“So pretty,” Lucas says, his hand coming to rest at the side of Jens’s neck, his thumb brushing back and forth over his jaw. 

Jens’s eyes are soft on him, his hand on the pavement between them as he leans closer, ever so slightly, and Lucas thinks he might kiss him. 

But there are too many people around, too many skaters laughing and talking, and Lucas could swear he heard “... fucking gay,” from under a boy’s breath as he passed them.

Jens heard it too, and Lucas can tell from the way his eyes follow the boy as he passes, slightly wide, anxious, and maybe even a little mad. Lucas lifts his hand from Jens’s skin, not wanting him to be uncomfortable, and turns away, looking out at the park, at the sky. 

The air between them has shifted, but not much, and Lucas still feels relaxed, still feels at peace with him. 

He hears Jens sigh, and Jens scoots closer, lifting his leg and placing it on top of Lucas’s. Lucas smiles, letting his hand drift so he’s holding Jens’s knee, his fingers gentle as they brush over the fabric of his jeans. Jens leans, an arm going behind Lucas, holding himself up and he looks at him, analyzing the side of his face. Jens shrugs a shoulder, his cheek pressing to it as Lucas turns to look at him. 

There’s a soft smile on Jens’s face, a soft smile that reads _I don’t care, do you?_

And Lucas drops his head to Jens’s shoulder, his forehead bumping Jens’s face, not caring at all.

After a second, he lifts his head and looks out in front of them again, closing his eyes, and breathing in the sunshine. It shoulder start raining at any minute, the sun peering out from between grey clouds that look drawn onto the sky. 

He can sense Jens get closer, smiling as he feels him press a slow, careful kiss to the line of his jaw. There’s a moment, a pause, as Jens pulls back, just far enough that he can see Lucas’s smile, and then he kisses him again. Lucas can feel his lips curve into a smile against his skin.


	13. Thank You

Lucas’s cheeks flushed when Jens kissed his face. That’s why he did it again, of course.

Jens doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything more in his life than he wants to kiss Lucas. Just to kiss him. (Though he wouldn’t be opposed to… anything else. If Lucas is interested.) Hell, he’d like to just hold his hand right now, to brush the tips of his fingers over Lucas’s knuckles, to lace their fingers, let their hands hang between them as they walk. It’s dark out, lights and stars and scattered clouds glowing in what looks like a desolate, separate dimension. Some day, hopefully, maybe, he’d like to take Lucas around the city at night, pretend they’re the only people in the world, in the universe. He’d kiss him in the middle of the street, just because he can. 

And then he’d kiss him again.

Jens can only hear his footsteps as he makes his way to his apartment building. It’s late, late enough that his mom and Lotte and Dilan should be asleep, late enough that he can’t hear people, or cars, which he finds strange, as it’s a Friday night. His phone is in his pocket, his hands gripping the straps of his backpack loosely, a very slight sluggishness in his step as he yawns, his breath glowing in the air in front of him like the clouds in the moonlight.

The gate clatters loudly as he opens it, and he winces. He tries to keep his footsteps light as he makes his way to his apartment, a hand on the wall to keep himself steady.

He unlocks and opens the door slowly, toeing his shoes off, when he freezes, hearing muffled voices coming from the kitchen. 

It’s a familiar sound, making his shoulders stiffen, the hair on the back of his neck stand up, especially when he hears his mom’s voice break through the walls, taut with stress, the end of her sentence drowning into a stage whisper. Jens can’t quite make out what she’s saying. 

He sets his shoes to the side and drops his backpack lightly, as quietly as he can, and steps down the hallway, wincing at every creak the floor makes under his feet. He steps next to the kitchen door, pressing his ear to it, listening intently. 

Dilan’s voice makes his heart twist.

“—a man, maybe he’ll turn into one!”

“Don’t—” His mom’s voice cuts off and she takes a deep breath. “Don’t say stuff like that, he’s just who he wants to be and ballet doesn’t—”

“Doesn’t what?” 

Jens already knew they’re talking about him, but his stomach still sinks. 

“Make him less of a man?” Dilan continues. “Fenna, you’re raising a—”

“ _Stop._ ” Her voice shakes.

Jens’s breath stutters and he bites his lip. 

There’s a moment of silence before he hears Dilan take a deep breath. 

“Look. I’m just saying, I stay here, or you find a husband, and your kids will have a role model, and—”

“ _My kids_ are just fine.”

“ _No_ , they’re not. You’ve got a fucking ballet dancer and a kid with, what, _autism_?” A pause, and Jens’s blood begins to boil. “Where did you go wrong?” 

Jens’s brow furrows as he listens. His hands are beginning to shake.

“I don’t—” She takes a shuddering breath and Jens can imagine her shaking her head, at a loss for words. “What matters to me,” she says slowly, “is that they’re happy, and Jens is happy, and—”

“Is Lotte happy?” 

Jens wants to curse him for interrupting. 

“Is Lotte really happy?” Dilan repeats. “She can hardly hold up her end of a conversation, can hardly go to a public place and _handle_ it.”

Silence. 

And then he continues. He never seems to stop. 

“She needs a role model, she needs someone to look up to, she needs to be… fixed.” 

“ _What?_ ”

Jens mouths the word to himself at the same time as she says it, with half a mind to slam the door open and hit him. He realises his hand is set on the doorknob, gripping it loosely, ready to throw it open and stand in front of his mother. 

“My daughter does not need to be fixed, she is not a broken machine or a —” She cuts off with a stuttering gasp and Jens’s hand tightens, but then there’s a sniffle and Jens realises she’s crying. His own eyes burn. 

“She is the way she is. There’s nothing wrong with her.”

“Nothing wrong with her? Fenna, you’re doing it all wrong.” His voice is soft like he’s trying to soothe a child. “You need to—”

“ _Don’t_.”

Jens has never heard her talk like this. Sharp, and strict. She’s always soft and gentle, sighing and speaking quietly when exasperated, when tired. Jens has never heard her yell, even when his father yelled at her, she would stand her ground, speaking smoothly, her voice even and paper-thin. 

“You didn’t bother raising your own child, don’t you _dare_ try to tell me how to raise mine.”

Her voice wavers, but even with its unsteadiness, it’s bold and strong, and Jens smiles softly to himself, still holding the doorknob.

It’s silent except for Jens’s breathing, which he hopes they can’t hear. 

“I—”

“Get out.” Her voice isn’t shaking anymore. 

“What?” 

“Get your shit and leave.” 

Jen’s eyes widen and his smile grows.

“Fenna—”

“I welcome you into my home, and you — you speak like this about _my children_.” She sounds angrier than Jens has ever heard her, angrier than the time she caught him sneaking out with vodka in his bag, than the time he left Lotte home alone while he got groceries, than every time Jens’s father pissed Jens off beyond words. “Get _out_.”

There’s a rustle and the sound of feet stumbling and Jens realises she’s just pushed him, and there’s barely a second for Jens to remove his hand from the door before it’s swinging open, revealing Dilan, red-faced, who startles at Jens before staring at him, their eyes locking. After a second, Jens moves out of the way, unblinking, and Dilan moves down the hall to the guest room he’s staying in. Jens turns to look into the kitchen and his mother catches his eye before looking away, and Jens looks away too, down the hall. They wait in silence until Dilan emerges, a suitcase in hand, and he stumbles to the front door, pushing past Jens, not even sparing a glance in Jens’s mom’s direction.

When the door shuts, louder than necessary, Jens hears her sigh heavily, and he turns to see her collapsed in a chair, her elbows on the table and her head in her hands. 

Jens stands there, teeth gritted, not knowing what to say, what to do. It’s only when he hears a soft whimper that her steps forward and pulls her shoulder toward him. She falls against his chest, her face contorting as she cries, and she wraps her arms around his waist, hiding her face in her arms as Jens runs a hand through her hair, the other running over her arm. 

His own eyes well up as he listens to her sob quietly, as he feels her shoulders heave, finally seeing her, knowing her, not as his mom, but just a woman, tired of holding herself together, a woman who’s done all she can, who loves him and his sister enough to throw her own father out in the middle of the night. 

He bends down and kisses the top of her head softly. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs. 

“I know,” she chokes out after a minute. She lets go of him, still resting her head on his and sighs shakily, sniffling. 

He holds her. 

It’s several minutes before she lifts her head, wiping her face, and he steps away, picking up a glass from the counter and filling it with water. She smiles as he hands it to her. 

“It’s something we have in common,” he says quietly as she takes a sip. “Shitty dads.”

She chuckles and nods, setting the glass down. 

“And good moms,” he adds.

She smiles, holding a hand out, and he takes it. 

\---

Jens brushes his teeth after his mom goes to bed, after they’ve both had a cup of tea. (Although Jens doesn’t finish his; he prefers coffee, but he doesn’t plan on being up until sunrise.)

After rinsing his mouth until it burns of mint, he quietly swings Lotte’s door open, just a little more than a crack, to check on her. It’s something he does sometimes, when he comes home late or when he wakes up in the middle of the night, his throat dry. Once he woke after a nightmare, a dream that he can’t remember a single detail from, and with a small pit in his stomach, snuck down the hallway and peeked through her door, his eyes on her until he heard her take a deep breath and saw her roll to her side. 

When she was little (or little-er), she would come into Jens’s room when their parents argued. They couldn’t hear her down the hall over their voices. She’d climb into his bed silently, and he would move back against the wall to keep a distance between them. She’d always bring a blanket, sleep with it around her shoulders and head, or balled against her chest. Eventually, Jens started going to her room with his own blanket. Her bed is smaller than his so he’d sleep on the floor. 

Lotte rolls over like even in her sleep she can feel Jens’s eyes on her, and he lets out a small breath before shutting the door as quietly as he can, and he goes to his room. 

He sets his phone on his bedside table and strips his hoodie and shirt off at once, tossing them to the floor before changing into pyjama pants that are strewn on his bed. 

When his lights are off, he lays on his back, his room warm enough that the blankets are twisted around his hips, his chest bare. 

He was sleepy just seconds ago, but now he stares at his ceiling through the dark. 

_You’re raising a…_

A what? 

A what? A what? A what? A what? A what? A what? A what? A—

Jens sits up and grabs his phone, seeing it in the streaks of moonlight coming through his curtains.

And he messages Lucas, almost unconsciously, like it’s second nature, to go to Lucas.

_Can I call you?_

Not the first time he’s sent a message like it.

It’s almost two minutes before Lucas responds, even though Jens wasn’t expecting him to, so late at night. 

_Of course._

So he does.

It’s quiet when Lucas answers.

“Hi,” Jens whispers.

“Are you okay?” Lucas’s voice is rough, groggy.

“I’m fine. Did I wake you up?” Jens asks, feeling bad. He could have waited until morning. 

“Yeah, but it’s fine. You’re okay?” he repeats.

“Yeah, it’s just my grandpa.” 

There’s a rustling sound like Lucas is sitting up in bed.

“Are you okay? Is Lotte? Should I go get you?” he says quickly.

“I— No, we’re fine, it’s fine,” Jens says, startled. “He left.”

“Oh.” 

“My mom kicked him out.”

“Good for her.” 

Jens chuckles quietly before the smile drops off his face slowly. 

“I’ve never seen her like that,” he breathes, like he’s thinking to himself. 

“Like what?” Lucas asks softly like he can tell what Jens is feeling.

“So… angry. My grandpa, he… he was saying things about Lotte and me, that she needs to be fixed, that we need a — a fucking male role model.”

“Jesus.”

“Yeah. She cursed at him. I’ve never heard her talk like that.”

“Do you want to talk about this?” 

Jens realises he doesn’t. 

“No,” he whispers, and closes his eyes.

It’s quiet for a minute before Lucas talks, his words just breaths in Jens’s ear. 

“Tell me about something that makes you happy.” 

Of course, the first thing that comes to Jens’s mind is Lucas’s face, but he doesn’t say that. He rolls onto his stomach as he thinks, laying his head over his bent arm as he holds the phone to his ear.

“Ice skating.” 

“Ice skating?” 

Jens laughs at his surprised tone.

“Yeah.” 

“Tell me.”

Jens sighs. 

“We haven’t gone in a few months. Lotte and me.” 

“Does she like it?” Lucas is mumbling slight, sleepy. 

“Yeah. And she’s good, really good,” Jens says almost proudly. “I taught her to balance and skate around the rink, and she just… took off. Fuckin’ prodigy.”

“You taught her?” Jens can hear the smile in his voice.

“Mm-hmm. She held my hand the whole first time.” He adjusts his head on the pillow. “And she always smiles when she’s on the ice.” 

“That’s nice,” Lucas murmurs. 

“Are you falling asleep on me?” Jens smiles.

Lucas hums. 

“Can fall asleep with you,” he says, his voice muffled. 

“That sounds nice.” 

He listens to Lucas breath quietly, and he begins to fall asleep.

“Wanna hold your hand,” he mumbles without thinking. 

“Mm… Can’t hear what you’re saying, babe.” 

Jens’s heart skips a beat and he grins as Lucas’s sleepy slur in his voice. He turns so his mouth isn’t against the pillow.

“Said I wanna hold your hand.

Lucas hums again. Jens can sense him falling asleep and he sighs. 

Lucas murmurs a sentence and Jens can only understand two words.

“. . . kiss you.” 

Jens hums as he did. He’d like that.

“Lu?” he says after a minute, quietly, in case Lucas has fallen asleep. 

“Mm-hmm?” 

“Thank you.”

They fall asleep together.


	14. Still

When he wakes up, Lucas’s phone is under his cheek, sticking to his skin slightly when he lifts his head. He rubs his face as he sits up, smiling as he remembers Jens’s soft, sleepy voice in his ear.

 _Ice skating._

It’s so random, so unexpected, so wonderfully Jens, that Lucas didn’t know exactly how to respond. And of course, Jens loves it because of Lotte. Lucas loves Jens’s relationship with Lotte, how soft his voice gets when he talks about her, how every time he mentions her it looks like his heart is shining, how he sounded close to tears when he talked about what his damned grandpa had said about her. And the precious “ladybug,” that makes Lucas’s heart flutter every time he thinks about it. 

Lucas sighs, stretching with his hands balled into fists and falls onto his back. He scans the ceiling, blinking his eyes blearily, thinking about Jens’s voice in his ear. He loves it, the way it feels like they’re the only people in the world. There was a day a while ago when they were both sitting on the dumpster, when Jens leaned in close, close enough that Lucas could feel his breath on his neck, and whispered that there was a woman on the sidewalk watching them. Lucas had hidden the blunt they’d been smoking behind his leg and giggled when he’s looked up and seen her, a middle-aged white lady staring at them. Jens had asked “Is she still looking?” softly so she wouldn’t hear and Lucas has shivered as he nodded, and Jens had dropped his head onto Lucas’s shoulder, laughing. And Lucas had forgotten all about the woman. They stayed like that, giggling, their heads close together until she left, and Lucas held up the joint for Jens, who took it with his mouth, his lips brushing Lucas’s fingertips.

There are muffled voices outside Lucas’s room and he sits up, pushing his blanket off is body before standing and pulling a hoodie on over his thin t-shirt. Making his way to the kitchen, he hears music coming through the walls.

Senne and Milan are singing together when he enters the kitchen, and before they see him, he catches Zoë’s eye. She’s sitting at the table, grinning behind her hand and her eyes widen when she sees him. Lucas looks from her to Senne, who is holding Milan’s hand above his head, making Milan do a twirl, still singing, and Lucas looks back at Zoë and shakes his head before turning back around, but he stops and laughs when he hears her call, “No, don’t leave me alone!” over Senne’s and Milan’s discordant voices.

“Baby Lucas!” Milan exclaims when he sees him and reaches out, wrapping his arms around him and kisses his head. Lucas makes a disgruntled noise and wrinkles his nose before he’s pushed toward the table. He yawns as he sits, not hearing what Senne and Milan say to each other as Milan places a mug of coffee in front of him. He zones out, staring at the mug, before he’s startled back into his body and he takes a sip, turning to see Milan and Senne dancing again, shimmying their shoulders and singing. Lucas looks back to Zoë, who’s smiling fondly at the two. 

“You okay?” she asks when she looks at him.

He nods, taking another sip, burning his tongue slightly. 

“Tired.”

“Same.” She doesn’t look tired, already dressed in a light blue sweater with her makeup done, not a hair out of place. She tucks her hair behind her ear and Lucas sees her earring, a big, hanging faux pearl.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” he says, leaning in slightly.

He hasn’t talked to Zoë much. She’s nice, of course, but it always feels just a little bit awkward when it’s just the two of them. It’s easier with Senne, though Lucas doesn’t know why. Somehow Senne reminds him of Noah, even though they don’t seem to have much in common. Similar spirits, Lucas guesses.

“You like it?” Zoë says, touching the earring.

“Yeah, you look like the Girl With the Pearl Earring by Vermeer.” 

She turns and looks at him over her shoulder and he laughs.

“Exactly.”

“What masterpiece do I look like?” Senne asks dramatically, stepping behind Zoë and setting his chin on her head as he puts his arms around her.

Lucas hums as he thinks, staring at Senne, and Senne brings a hand to his face, striking a pose. 

“The Meditative Rose. Dalí.”

Senne looks at him, raising his brows. 

“It’s all about your vibe,” Lucas adds, holding his hand up and moving it up and down, his fingers spread. 

Senne laughs before asking Zoë to look up the piece and she pulls her phone across the table, opening it and typing. 

“And me?” Milan turns and holds the spatula under his chin, posing. 

“Mm…” Lucas takes a sip from his coffee, narrowing his eyes as he thinks. “The Red Armchair.” He tries not to laugh when Milan looks at him, furrowing his brow. “Picasso,” he clarifies. 

“Oh, fuck you.”

Lucas almost chokes on his coffee and Zoë and Senne laugh. 

“I think it fits,” Zoë says looking at her phone and then turns, holding it up next to Senne. She has a photo of the painting open, and Senne holds his fingers under his chin with a cheesy smile. 

“Yeah,” Milan says, giving Lucas a plate of food and taking a look. “Especially when you’ve got Zoë’s lipstick on you.”

Senne bends down with a cheeky look and Zoë presses a kiss to his mouth before giggling and wiping her lipstick off of his mouth. Lucas smiles as he takes a bite from his french toast. 

He stops listening as he eats, still sleepy, and rests his cheek on the palm of his hand, his elbow on the table, until his phone buzzes, a notification lighting up the screen. He looks at it, barely noticing Zoë’s glance in the phone’s direction, expecting a text from Noah or Ralph, but it’s Jens.

_Hey, cutie_

He drops his fork, the loud clatter of it falling against the glass plate startling Zoë and pausing Sennés conversation with Milan. 

“Sorry,” Lucas says quickly, picking up his phone as Jens texts him again.

 _Sorry for calling so late last night_

He shakes his head, smiling softly as he responds.

_i told you i don’t mind_

And he really doesn’t. He’d answer the phone in the middle of a painting if it was Jens calling. 

_Still_

Lucas sips his coffee, which has cooled down. 

_it’s o k a y_

He hesitates before adding, _tbh I think I sleep better listening to you ___

__He looks up, away from the screen, which is directed away from the others, and tries to listen as Milan tells Zoë and Senne about a new boy he met, but his eyes snap back to his phone when it buzzes shortly._ _

___Gonna call you every night from now on_ _ _

__Lucas scoffs, smiling to himself, and doesn’t notice Zoë catch his smile._ _

___please do_ _ _

__He’s almost done with his breakfast when Jens texts him again._ _

___My mom and Lotte are going out tomorrow_ _ _

__Lucas reads the message over again, unsure of what to make of it, what to say or how to interpret it._ _

__“Shit, I have to go,” Milan says as he drops a plate in the sink and looks at the screen of his phone. “Can someone else clean up? I have to meet some classmates for a project.”_ _

__“I’ll take care of it,” Lucas says, forcing himself to not look down as his phone buzzes again, “Don’t worry about it.” Milan sends him a grateful look._ _

__“I’m gonna go with you, I’m meeting Jana in a few minutes,” Zoë says, pushing herself up and smiling at Lucas. “Bye._ _

__“I won’t abandon you, don’t worry,” Senne says, giving Zoë another kiss. Lucas tilts his phone away as Milan plants a kiss on the top of his head and looks down at it when he and Zoë leave._ _

__“Oh, my hero.”_ _

____Do you wanna hang out? We can watch a movie or something__ _ _

__Lucas checks to make sure Senne’s back is turned before letting himself grin, his knee bouncing up and down under the table._ _

____hell yeah__ _ _

__“You have homework?” Senne asks, drying a pan with a blue towel and turning, resting the small of his back against the counter. Lucas makes himself look up at his as Jens responds _ _:)__._ _

__“Yes, dad.”_ _

__He rolls his eyes and laughs when Senne points the pan at him and winks before turning to put it away._ _

____You remember how to get to my place?__ _ _

__Lucas bites his lip as he smiles again. (It’s apparently been a very smiley morning.)_ _

____yep__ _ _

__“Son, can you do the dishes for me?” Senne asks._ _

__“You’re dumb.”_ _

__“Do the damn dishes.”_ _

__Lucas snickers, shovelling the rest of his food into his mouth and draining his mug._ _


	15. Do It Again

There’s a train in Jens’s veins when he wakes up. He doesn’t mean to, but he wakes up early, before Lotte and their mom have left.

“What are you doing today?” his mom asks as she sips her tea, and he takes a bite of his breakfast before answering.

“Probably just...watch a movie. Or homework.”

“Mhmm.” She narrows her eyes at him and Lotte giggles even though she’s not looking. 

“He’s not going to do homework,” she says into her cereal bowl.

“I will!” 

“No, you won’t.”

“No, you’re probably right.” 

And she giggles again.

When they leave he cleans his room, shoving clothes into his closet, stacking books and setting them on his desk, his backpack on the desk chair, hanging his pointe shoes on his barre, and he even attempts to fix his hair in the mirror, not that it really works. 

He jumps when there’s a knock at the door, dropping his phone, and stands in front of the door, hesitating nervously before opening it and nearly swooning at the sight of Lucas, his curly hair, the chains hanging around his neck over a pink sweatshirt. 

“Hi,” Lucas says, smiling as Jens’s eyes sweep over him. 

“Hey.”

They stare at each other for a second, the air slightly awkward (or maybe it’s just Jens’s unnecessary nervousness), before Jens steps back abruptly, holding the door open wider.

“Come on.” 

He laughs when Lucas curtsies as he passes him. 

“Such a gentleman,” Lucas says, turning to look back at him, looking around. 

“I try.”

“Mhmm.” 

Lucas suppresses a smile unsuccessfully and glances around again, the smile growing as his eyes catch on the wall. He nods to it, stepping closer. 

“Is this you or Lotte?” 

Jens looks where he’s looking, at a grainy photo of a baby. He rolls his eyes, groaning and covering his face with his hand. 

“I should have covered those before you got here.” 

“I’m assuming it’s you.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs. 

“Aw.” Lucas is grinning, reaching out and pinching Jens’s flushed cheeks. “So cute.”

“Do you want anything to drink?” Jens asks, swatting his hands away even though he kind of doesn’t want to.

“What do you have?” Lucas looks at the photo again, smiling, and looks at the photo under it, a small picture of Jens and Lotte a few years ago. She’s rolling her eyes and smiling as Jens makes a face.

“No beer, unfortunately.”

“Shame.” 

Jens watches Lucas’s face.

“I think we have juice boxes though.” 

“That sounds good.”

Lucas follows Jens to the kitchen and watches him open the magnet-covered fridge, pulling out the juiceboxes. 

“Thank you,” Lucas mouths as he takes one from his hand. 

They punch the straws into the juice boxes at the same time, like it’s a challenge, and Jens leads the way to his room, sipping the juice. 

“Much more artsy than I expected,” Lucas says when they enter, looking at the drawings pinned above his desk.

“They’re all Lotte’s.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” He watches Lucas sip his juice and lean over the desk, looking closer at the marker drawings of flowers and bugs. 

“She’s really good.”

“Maybe I should add some of yours to it.”

Lucas hums, quirking his eyebrows at him. He looks around again, his eyes catching at the barre and smiling.

It’s quiet for a second before Jens sets his juice on the desk.

“Come on.”

He goes to the barre, setting a hand on it and getting into first position, his heels together, his other arm hanging in a gentle curve.

“What?” Lucas’s smile drops slowly and he lowers his juice box.

“Come on,” Jens repeats, beckoning with a tilt of his head.

“What, no, I’m not—”

“ _Come on_.”

“I’m not doing ballet, Jens.” 

Jens ignores the shiver he gets when Lucas says his name.

“Yes, you are, come here.” 

Lucas stares at him, looking scandalized, before he finally sets his juice box next to Jens’s and steps in front of him, copying his stance as Jens smiles.

“You’re too stiff, drop your shoulders.” 

Jens sets his hands on his shoulders, pushing them down until Lucas drops them. Lucas shakes his head, grimacing. 

“I—”

“A-a-and plié…” Jens interrupts, bending his knees and sweeping his arm. Lucas watches, unmoving until Jens waves his hand in a _go on_ gesture, and he copies him, stiffly, awkwardly, and Jens stifles a chuckle. 

“It’s so bad,” Lucas laughs, covering his face.

“It’s not,” Jens says, and Lucas gives him a look. “Just… drop your shoulders.” He places his hands on his shoulders again. 

But he doesn’t push, his hands light on him, and Lucas grins. Jens’s eyes drop to his smile and then back to the blue of his eyes. 

The air around them is blue, too.

“Jens,” Lucas says, tilting his head in like he’s trying to ground him. Jens’s hands slide over his shoulder to his neck. Lucas’s skin is warm. “Do it.”

So he does.

He leans down and their mouths crash together messily. His eyes close and his fingers slip into Lucas’s hair, catching tangles as he feels Lucas touch his waist, pulling him closer as their lips slide across each other. 

This is the type of kiss that’s only in movies, Jens thinks as he tilts his head, feeling Lucas’s tongue slip across his lip gently. The kiss that’s under rain and moonlight, surrounded by swelling music. But this will do. In fact, this is perfect.

Jens’s mind goes blank as Lucas’s hands tighten on him, and he accidentally pushes him, Lucas’s back bumping the barre and Lucas pulls back, a small yelp escaping his mouth. 

“Shit, sorry,” Jens apologizes, breathless, and he pulls back, looking at Lucas, who looks almost as flustered as Jens feels. 

“Didn’t know you were into that,” Lucas says, quirking his eyebrows and sliding his hands over his chest to his neck, and pulls him in. 

“Shut up,” Jens says, smiling as they kiss again. 

Lucas’s thumb sweeps over Jens’s jaw and he gets up on his tiptoes, gasping as their mouths open. He tastes sweet.

Jens slips his hands down to his legs and pulls them up, and Lucas lets him puck him up, wrapping his legs around his waist, throwing his head back and laughing as Jens mouths around his neck. 

“What are you doing?” Lucas laughs, wrapping his arms around Jens’s neck as Jens turns and steps to the bed. 

“Kissing you.” He presses his lips to his throat as if to make a point and kneels on the bed, dropping Lucas under him. He holds himself above him, his eyes flicking back and forth between Lucas’s, studying his freckles, his pink cheeks, his shining lips, which smile. 

“Do it again,” Lucas says, and Jens doesn’t have to ask to know what he means, leaning down and taking Lucas’s bottom lip between his own, and Lucas’s fingers curl in Jen’s hair. 

Jens begins to smile, the sort of uncontrollable smile that makes his eyes and nose scrunch up, and he’s unable to kiss Lucas back, letting Lucas push him so they roll over. 

“Stop smiling so I can kiss you properly,” Lucas scolds him, pulling back and looking at his face. 

“Sorry, I’m just happy,” Jens says, slipping his hands to his waist, catching the soft fabric of his sweatshirt in his fingers.

“Me too,” Lucas breathes, smoothing a thumb over Jens’s cheekbone before leaning down and attempting to kiss him again, but Jens’s smile interferes.

“ _Stop!_ ”

“I can’t!” 

“Oh my God…”

Lucas leans down again, pressing soft kisses over Jens’s jaw and neck, and Jens lets himself smile, closing his eyes and sighing as Lucas kisses him slowly. 

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” Lucas murmurs against his skin. 

“You’re telling me I could have kissed you weeks ago?” 

Lucas leaves another kiss on his throat and lifts his head, leaning in close enough that their lips brush as he speaks. 

“You could have kissed me the first day we saw each other and I would have let you.” 

Jens watches his mouth as he says it, and his smile softens as Lucas kisses him again.

\---

“I thought you said we were going to watch a movie or something?” 

“I’d rather do this.” 

“Mm.” 

\---

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend?” Lucas whispers, his fingers tracing lightly over Jens’s face. Jens smiles softly, his eyes closed, an arm bent under his own head, the other resting on Lucas’s waist. His fingertips slip under Lucas’s sweatshirt, softly trailing over his warm skin. Lucas runs a finger over his mouth and Jens kisses it before answering. 

“Will you be mine?” he asks just as quietly, and Lucas kisses him, even though both their lips are red and swollen. 

“Yeah.” 

Jens kisses him again before pulling him in, sighing, and Lucas wraps his arm around Jens, resting his head against his chest. Jens wonders if he can hear his heartbeat. 

“I’m not out to any of my friends,” Jens says quietly. 

“I won’t tell anyone.” 

“No?” 

“Mm-mm.”

“Zoë will probably figure it out though.” 

Lucas chuckles softly as Jens trails his fingers over his back.

“Maybe. I don’t think she’d tell anyone.” 

“Hopefully.” He sighs. “She’s best friends with my ex.” 

“Shit, really?” 

“Yeah. We ended on good terms, I’m just…” 

“Not Jens Jens?” 

Jens laughs. 

“Yeah.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, but Jens knows he’s not asleep because his fingers continue to play with his hair. 

“I’d ask you to spend the night but I have school tomorrow,” he says, kissing Lucas’s forehead. 

“Unfortunate.” 

“Mm.” 

“When are your mom and Lotte coming home?” 

“This evening. They’re having a girls’ day.” 

“That’s cute.” 

Lucas’s hand lets go of his hair and slides down Jens’s arm until he tugs at Jens’s hand, pulling it between them and lacing their fingers. 

Jens lifts their linked fingers and lifts Lucas’s chin, leaning down and kissing him lazily, a mess of teeth and tongues. 

“You’re so pretty,” Lucas whispers when they separate, and Jens groans, rolling his eyes.

“Shut up.” 

“I will not. You’re gorgeous.” 

Jens shuts him up himself.

\---

Lucas sits up when his phone buzzes and Jens wraps his arm around his waist, laying his face on his leg. Lucas winds his fingers in Jens’s hair as he reads the text, scratching his scalp gently. 

“I need to go—”

Jens interrupts, whining loudly, and Lucas laughs, dropping his phone next to Jens. 

“Milan wants me to join him and Zoë and Senne for dinner.”

“Mm...sweet.” 

“Mhmm.”

Jens rolls off his lap and looks up at him and after a second Lucas taps the end of his nose with his index finger, making Jens scrunch his nose and giggle. 

“I do have to go.” 

“I don’t want you to,” Jens whines. 

“Well I have to go eventually,” Lucas says as he pushes himself to turn around, facing Jens, and Jens sits up, reaching out and pulling him in. Lucas smiles as they kiss slowly. 

“Will you walk me out?” he asks quietly.

“I _guess_ ,” Jens says dramatically, letting go of him and swinging his legs off the bed. He holds Lucas’s hand the whole way to the front door and makes him twirl before he steps out, landing with Jens’s arm on his shoulder, his fingertips in his curls. 

“I’ll call you tonight,” he says after Lucas kisses him shortly. 

“Yeah? We can fall asleep together?” 

“Mhmm.” He kisses him again. 

“I’ll see you on Thursday?” 

They still speak quietly, like they’re blocking out the rest of the world. 

“Of course.”


	16. You Fuck Me Up

Lucas smiles almost the whole way home, and he has to force himself to stop when he steps through the door, but it’s hard. Just a few minutes after he left Jens’s, Jens sent him a text message. 

_I miss you :(_

And Lucas had giggled to himself like a schoolgirl.

He goes to his room before going to the kitchen, to leave his shoes and jacket, and to let himself smile, covering his face. His cheeks squish under his hands and he closes his eyes. He can still feel his lips tingling, and he presses them together, trying to calm his smile down before dinner. He drops his phone on his bed when he hears Milan sing his name from the hallway. 

“Lucas, what did you do today?” Senne asks after they’ve all sat down, looking at him over the table. Lucas swallows a bite before answering, a response he planned on the way over. 

“Just wandered around the city.” He nods to Milan. “I went down to the canal and saw Sander’s mural again, I totally forgot about it.”

“Fun, fun…” Milan says. “Did you make any art?”

“Yeah, I did some sketches.” Lucas takes a small bite and reaches out to his glass next to him.

“Can we see them?” Senne asks.

“No,” Lucas says lightly, lifting the glass as if in a toast, before taking a sip. “Milan, did you finish that project?” 

“Well we would have but _Matthis_ didn’t do his _part_...”

As he talks, Lucas catches Senne staring at Lucas, his brow furrowed and his eyes slightly narrowed, his fork stalled on its way to his mouth. Lucas mouths _What?_ to him and Senne shrugs, shaking his head and looks away. 

“So _I_ have to do that part of it, and I’m upset,” Milan finishes. 

“Really? I can’t tell,” Senne says, covering his full mouth. 

Lucas and Zoë both snort as Milan lets out a sarcastic laugh. 

\---

There’s a knock at Lucas’s door and he flips the page of his sketchbook, from a drawing of Jens to a simple sketch of the city, before he calls, “Come in!”

The door opens and Senne steps in, but he doesn’t enter, just leans against the doorframe, holding the door against himself. He looks at Lucas and smiles when he sees the sketchbook. 

“Hi?” Lucas moves the sketchbook down to give Senne his attention. “What’s up?”

Senne sighs, glancing at the window before looking back at him. 

“So… You weren’t really wandering the city today, were you?”

Lucas stares at him, unsure of how to respond. 

“Uhm…” 

He doesn’t even know if he should be worried. How would Senne know about him and Jens? It wasn’t like they met in a public place; he’d gone directly to Jens’s, and they hadn’t posted anything about being together. 

“I don’t know where you were,” Senne says quickly, seeing Lucas’s confused, worried face. “I just…” He trails off, staring at Lucas, eyes narrowed, thinking. “You seem happy.” 

Lucas suppresses a smile.

“And I’m not gonna pry, I’m just…” Senne smiles, almost knowingly. “I’m happy for you.”

\---

Lucas can see Jens standing outside the studio in the distance as he skateboards down the pavement quickly. Most of the dancers that are usually waiting outside with Jens are fone by now, as Lucas is a few minutes late.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” he says breathlessly as he stumbles off the board, clutching Jens’s shoulders so he doesn’t fall and Jens is grinning, grabbing his wrist as Lucas bends down and picks up the board. “I was, like, halfway here and then I realised I forgot something, so I had to turn back, and--” 

As he rambles, Jens pulls him by the wrist to the alley and tugs him into it, turning to face him.

“--and then the lock got stuck and it was--” 

Jens kisses him, his hand letting go of his wrist and going to his neck, his thumb brushing over his jaw as their lips open against each other, and Lucas gasps lightly, placing his skateboard against the wall by bending down, his head tilted up so their mouths don’t detach, and then he reaches up, twisting his fingers in Jens’s hair. 

Lucas’s hands slip down, and one grips his shoulder as the other holds the strap of his bag, and he gets up on his tiptoes, pulling him closer and kissing him harder, his tongue slipping past Jens’s lips. 

Jens hums, wrapping his arms around Lucas’s waist, between his back and his backpack, and lifting him slightly. Lucas squeals, his hands jumping to hold Jens’s face, and his palms press to his cheeks, squishing them.

Jens lowers him, bending down and kissing him once more harshly, biting his lip, and Lucas lets out a quiet whimper. Jens lets go on his lip and pulls back, his cheeks red, smiling as Lucas tries to follow him. 

“Wait, no--” Lucas slides his hands to his neck and pulls him in, kissing him again, and Jens grins against his mouth, clutching at the small of his back as Lucas sucks on his lower lip gently. 

“Shit,” Lucas breathes when he finally pulls back, and Jens hums in agreement, sliding his hands to Lucas’s waist, holding onto him tightly as Lucas grips the lapels of his orange jacket. When he opens his eyes, Jens’s lips are shining and red, curved into a smile. 

“What did you forget?” Jens asks quietly.

“Huh?” Lucas’s brow furrows in confusion, his eyes dazed and spacey. 

“You said you forgot something and had to go back to get it,” Jens says, amused.

“Oh, that’s right!” Lucas doesn’t let go of him yet. “It’s for you.” 

“For me?” Jens’s brows raise.

“Yeah, you wanna see it?” 

“Yeah!”

They let go of each other and Lucas takes off his backpack, glancing up at Jens as he unzips it and pulls out a thin folder. 

“For your wall,” he says, handing it to him and zipping the bag again. “I tried to keep with Lotte’s theme.” 

When he looks up again, Jens is holding it open, looking through the cutout drawings, studies of plants and birds and butterflies and beetles. A few of them are coloured with pencils, others gone over with pen, others left in just graphite.

“Woah.”

Jens’s mouth is ajar, his eyes sparkling as he looks at them in wonder, and Lucas grins.

“You like them?” 

Jens looks at him and just reaches out, pulling him in by the chains around his neck, and kisses him. Lucas happily lets him, bringing a hand up to hold his face.

“Yeah?” he says when they pull away again.

“Yeah.” 

Lucas lets go and steps past him, grabbing his backpack and skateboard as he goes to the dumpster, where he tosses them both up on the lid before turning and jumping, pulling himself up. He watches as Jens puts his bag next to Lucas, carefully sliding the folder in. 

“Dance for me,” he says, catching Jens off guard.

“Hm?” 

“Dance for me. I’ve only seen you do a plié.” 

“What do I do?” Jens zips his bag again and steps out in front of Lucas.

“Uhm…” He smiles as Jens gets in first position. “Do a twirl.” 

“A twirl? A pirouette?” 

Lucas nods, giggling.

“What are you laughing at?” Jens asks as he steps a foot out in front of himself, holding one arm out to his side and the other to his front, his hand directed at Lucas, who notices a silver ring on his finger. 

He shrugs, still giggling. 

“I don’t know.” Jens raises his eyebrows, and Lucas cocks his head at him, laying his head on his shoulder as he puts his hand to his side, propping himself up. “I like it when you talk ballet.” 

“Oh?” 

Jens makes a suggestive face at him and Lucas makes one back. 

“Okay, this is probably gonna be bad because concrete. And sneakers.” 

“Try.”

Jens sends him one last look before kicking off, spinning on one foot twice, his eyes catching on Lucas every time he faces him. When he stops, stumbling because the rubber of his shoes catches on the rough gravel, Lucas claps, smiling brightly, and Jens takes a bow. 

When he raises his head, Lucas holds his hands out, grabbing at the air, and Jens steps close, between his legs. Lucas wraps his arms around Jens’s neck, pulling him into a hug, burying his face between his arm and his neck. 

“That was pretty,” he mumbles as he feels Jens touch his waist, pull Lucas against himself tightly. 

They hold each other for a few seconds, gently swaying, until Jens turns his head and kisses Lucas’s neck lazily, and Lucas’s shoulders come up and he flinches away, giggling. 

“You’re _ticklish_?”

“No…” 

“You are!” Jens kisses his neck again to prove it, his lips to his throat when Lucas shrugs again. 

“ _Jens!_ ” Lucas whines loudly, pushing at his shoulders, and Jens grins, letting himself be pushed back. 

“That’s so cute,” he says, gazing at Lucas, whose cheeks have flushed. “Oh, my god.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“I did.”

“My lips, Jens.” 

“Fiiiine.” 

Jens pulls at the small of his back and they kiss again. It only takes a second for both their mouths to open, their tongues tangling and their breaths mixing as Lucas slides his hands into Jens’s hair. Lucas gasps as Jens bites down on his lip, moving his body closer to Jens, whose hands slide to Lucas’s legs, squeezing his thighs. 

Lucas moves his hands to Jens’s neck and back to his hair, and back to his neck like he can’t decide where to stay. His legs wrap around Jens, his ankles locked, and he uses them to pull Jens in more. Jens slides his hands up and down his legs, squeezing his hips, and sighs when they pull away. 

Lucas holds his face, gazing at him. Jens’s eyes are closed, his lips red and parted like he’s sleeping. Lucas runs his thumbs over his brows, smoothing them, and then across his eyelids and over his cheekbones, kissing him once more. 

“You remember how you said you sleep better with me on the phone?” Jens murmurs, their foreheads pressing together. 

“Mmhmm.” 

Jens takes a deep breath, smiling softly. 

“Me too.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Mm.”

“This is a good routine we have going?” 

“A great routine.” 

They’ve called every day this week, around 11:00 pm, just to chat for a few minutes, about school or what they’d done that day, before they both lose the energy to talk. Until they both fall asleep, listening to each other breathe. 

Jens opens his eyes and they gaze at each other, their eyes soft. Lucas stares into his brows irises, how they get darker toward the centre, and his eyelashes, how they spread like fans. He presses a kiss to Jens’s forehead. 

“I’m finally taller than you.” 

Jens’s face hardens, his brow furrowing. 

“Mm… no.” 

He detaches himself from Lucas, letting go of his legs, and steps way before pulling himself up next to him. Lucas rolls his eyes, looking over at him. 

“You’re not allowed to be taller than me,” Jens says. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“You love it.” 

Lucas makes a face, moving his head back and forth like he’s considering it. 

“Jury’s still out.” 

Jens snorts, pushing himself back against the wall, and Lucas watches, turning, and smiles mischievously. 

“What?” Jens asks warily, narrowing his eyes at him. “What are you thinking?” 

“Nothing,” Lucas says, shrugging innocently. 

He leans forward and pecks Jens’s lips before putting a hand on his shoulder, and looking down as he crawls close, swinging a leg across Jens’s lap. 

“Oooooo…” Jens says, his voice high, lifting his hands as Lucas climbs on top of him so he’s straddling him.

“Ooo? Are you excited?” Lucas laughs, and Jens’s hands fall to his legs, gripping him, and he nods, grinning. 

“Silly,” Lucas says as he leans in, and he kisses him, hard and open-mouthed, immediately sliding his tongue into his mouth. Jens squeezes his legs, leaning in, his back coming away from the wall and pushing Lucas back. 

Lucas pushes right back, licking into his mouth, his fingers tangling in Jens’s hair at the back of his head, and Jens lets out a sound that maybe, possibly, just might be a moan as Lucas bites down on his lip. 

Lucas hums back, slipping his hands down to his chest, softly gripping his jacket, and he accidentally rolls his hips against Jens’s when Jens’s hands slide across the small of his back to his bottom. Jens pulls his mouth away with a gasp. 

“Wait--”

Lucas pulls away, searching his face anxiously, but Jens’s hands don’t move. Jens drops his head against the wall, looking away, almost panting. 

“I have to calm down,” he says, looking at Lucas, and Lucas grins. 

He waits for a second, feeling Jens’s chest rise and fall under his hands, watching Jens’s face. His eyes flick back and forth between Jens’s, and after a second, he bends down, tilting his head, and presses his lips to the side of Jens’s neck. Jens inhales, pulling Lucas is harder, and tilting his own head. Lucas closes his eyes, kissing him a few more times before opening his mouth slightly and biting down softly. 

“Mm, Lu, wait…” 

Lucas pulls his head back, looking at Jens, whose cheeks are pink, his eyes dazed. 

“Yeah?” 

“Are you gonna leave a mark?” Jens’s face turns red, and Lucas smiles.

“I can.”

“Can you do it where they won’t see?” 

Lucas quirks his eyebrows at him and somehow Jens blushes more. 

“You know what I mean.” 

Lucas laughs quietly, kissing his mouth softly. 

“I know.” 

He looks down, unzipping Jens’s jacket and gently pulling down the collar of his black hoodie until a section of his chest is exposed. He touches the skin lightly, just grazing it with his fingertips, and glances up at Jens. 

Jens is watching him, his eyes soft and sparkling, his mouth smiling. He nods when Lucas raises his eyebrows, and Lucas bends down, kissing the skin a few times, feeling Jens’s hands shift on him, before opening his mouth and biting, sucking the skin between his teeth. Jens moans softly, biting his own lip, and Lucas can hear him breathing heavily. After a minute, Lucas pulls away, looking at the reddened skin before licking it and kissing it softly, and lifting his head to look at Jens. 

“You fuck me up,” Jens says quietly, his eyes still closed, and Lucas giggles, leaning in and kissing him.


	17. Falling

The drawings go with Lotte’s above his desk, but there’s one he puts elsewhere. While most of the drawings are pinned up, between, above, and under Lotte’s, stuck with colourful pins and washi tape, there’s one he pins on the wall above his bedside table. 

It’s a watercolour ladybug, and he’s barely stopped looking at it sincere he got home, barely stopped admiring the soft colours, the light pencil just barely visible under the paint. He puts it up first, before looking at it and smiling fondly, then moving to his desk with the folder. 

As he carefully pins a drawing of a sunflower, he hears a knock at his door. It’s gentle, but firm, which tells him it’s Lotte. (His mom’s are gentle and tentative, usually accompanied by a soft “Jens?” and she waits before he calls for her to come in. His dad never knocked before throwing the door open.) The door opens slightly (he doesn’t look, but hears a creak), and he says “Come in,” before it opens all the way. 

Lotte doesn’t say anything, just stands next to Jens’s desk as he kneels on it, watching as he pushes pins into the wall. 

“You didn’t do those,” she states after a minute, when he puts up a sketch of a butterfly, under a butterfly by Lotte. 

“No,” he says, pausing and leaning back to look at it, making sure it’s straight. “They’re Lucas’s.”

“The FaceTime guy?” 

He chuckles softly, picking up the next one, a watercolour of treetops. 

“Yeah, the FaceTime guy. He said he tried to go with your theme.” 

She steps away, looking around as she processes what he said. 

“He’s been here?” 

Jens freezes, his eyes wide, his hand still, holding up the painting, and he grins. 

“Yeah, he came once.” He turns and looks at her. “He said you’re very talented.” 

She smiles after a second and he looks back to the wall, pushing a blue pin into the drawing. 

“Why is this one over here?” 

He turns and she’s sitting on his bed crisscross, pointing at the ladybug. 

“It’s my favourite.” 

He picks up the last one, a caterpillar on a leaf, and holds it up, unsure of where to place it.

“Why?” 

“It’s pretty.” He sits back, kneeling, and looks at her again. “Makes me think of you.” 

He smiles when she giggles after a second and then holds the drawing up again. 

“Where do you think this one should go?” he asks, and she gets up, coming to stand next to him and looking. 

She hums as she thinks and then points, under one of her flowers.

“Perfect.” He places it and holds up a pin. “You wanna do it?” 

She climbs up next to him and carefully takes the pin, pushing it into the wall and smiling. 

\---

Jens can’t hear the sound of his skateboard over the pavement through his headphones blasting loud music, that could be too loud for eight in the morning. But it’s fine. 

He skids to a stop outside the school, kicking the board up and catching it as he pulls his headphones down to hang around his neck and then reaches into his pocket to pause the music. There’s a text from Lucas that he hadn’t seen, didn’t feel the phone vibrate as he skated. 

_good luck at school, nerd_  
_see you tonight💕_

Jens laughs to himself, skating his head as he tucks the board under his arm and adjusts his grip on the phone as he responds.

🥰🥰🥰

He tries to wipe his smile away as he puts his phone back, walking past groups of students standing in circles until he sees the guys, also standing in a circle. 

“Hey,” he says as he hits Robbe gently with his skateboard, and they all shake his hand (after Robbe smacks him). 

“Hey, Jens—” 

“Hey, Moyo,” Jens interrupts, like he’s greeting him for the first time, turning to him and smiling as Moyo gives him a discontented look. 

“I have a question.” 

“I could have an answer.” There’s a pit in his stomach that he ignores. It grows there every time someone says something like that. _I have a question, we have to talk_ , anything like that. Freaks him out.

Moyo fishes his phone out of his pocket and they all wait as he opens something on it. 

“Is this you?” 

He holds his phone up and there’s an Instagram post open, a slightly blurry of who is obviously Jens, in his orange jacket, his hands covering his face partially. 

His heart drops for a second, knowing some kind of secret he has is being ripped away from him, but it raises and warms when he realises what he’s looking at: a photo of him taken by Lucas, a random snapshot as Jens pretended to beatbox, blurring from Jens’s movement and Lucas’s laughter. 

Jens’s face softens as he reads the caption. 

_my dancer_

“Yeah, that’s me.” 

Robbe and Aaron lean over his shoulder, looking, and Moyo leaves it up for them to see. 

“Whose account is that?” Aaron asks curiously and Moyo takes the phone back, looking at it. 

“Mm… I’m not gonna tell you.”

For a few reasons. 

“Come on, I know you know.” 

“Yeah, I do know, but I’m not gonna tell you.” 

Aaron frowns, dropping his shoulders. 

“I’m not, so don’t even try with the puppy dog eyes,” Jens says, tapping the end of Aaron’s nose, and Aaron rolls his eyes, giving up. 

“What’s the ‘my dancer’ thing mean?” Moyo asks, looking up from his phone.

“It’s an inside joke,” Jens says instinctively, the words out his mouth before he even processes the question.

And then he regrets it, as Moyo says, “Oh, okay,” and looks back at his phone, as Robbe tells Aaron that Sander is working on a (legal) mural at his school, a continuation of a conversation Jens had missed. 

The pit is back, even though he knows it’s fine. That Moyo is texting someone (probably Noor, not that he’d admit it), not looking at the account, that Robbe and Aaron and talking about Sander, that none of them are thinking about the account or the caption anymore. 

But it won’t go away, won’t stop eating away at him, and he can feel his pulse quicken, his breathing quicken, his hands shake in his pocket and his grip on the board shift repeatedly. The guys’ voices seem to get louder, along with the voices of all the other students scattered around them, the sound of doors slamming open and shut, the sound of birds singing, students dropping their backpacks, and laughing. 

“It’s not a joke,” he bursts, looking at the guys, who stop and look at him, confused, their minds already far past the topic. He stares back, unsure of what to say, until Robbe breaks the silence. 

“What?”

“The—The dancer thing,” he stammers, shoving his hand deeper into his pocket anxiously. “It’s not a joke. I’m a dancer.”

They stare at him blankly.

“But you were so shit during our hip hop video,” Moyo says. 

“That’s—” Jens snorts, dropping his head and shoulders, easing up a bit. “That’s because it was hip hop.”

It’s quiet again as they look at him like they’re studying him.

“Waist, so—” Aaron says, stopping and closing his eyes, waving his hands. “You’re a dancer? But when? How?” He looks like his mind just exploded, and Jens laughs.

“Thursdays.” 

And there it is. 

They all react differently.

Aaron gasps, reaching out and grabbing Jens, pulling him back and forth as Jens laughs. Robbe’s jaw drops and he stares, seemingly processing what Jens just revealed. Moyo lets out a loud “ _Oh!_ ” and points at him, looking from Jens to Robbe to Aaron to Jens. 

“Wait, what the fuck?” Moyo exclaims, pushing Aaron out of the way and gripping Jens’s shoulders. “You dance on Thursdays?” 

“I mean, I practise every day, but I go to the studio on Thursdays.” 

“Today?” Robbe asks.

“I—Yeah, today. I go home and grab my stuff before going.” 

“Can we come?” Aaron asks.

“No, Aaron.” 

“Oh.” 

“Wait. what kind of dance is it?” Moyo asks, pushing Jens like he’s offended.

“Ballet.”

They go quiet again. 

“What the fuck is going on this morning?” Moyo says, and Jens laughs again, harder, feeling lighter, the relief of not keeping this secret lifting the weight of it off his shoulders. 

“Okay, so you’re a ballerina,” Aaron states after they’ve all taken a second. 

“Yes.” 

“Show us.” 

“I…” 

He digs his phone out of his pocket and goes to the photos app, holding it so they can’t see as he scrolls through selfies taken with Lucas, candids of Lucas looking at his phone while sitting next to Jens, blurry pictures of Lucas covering his face.

“I don’t have any videos, but I…” he trails off again, hesitating. He looks around, at students talking and looking at their phones. He looks back at the guys, all looking at him expectantly. 

“Okay,” he sighs, handing his skateboard to Robbe, who takes it, confused, and Jens drops his bag to the ground. He steps out into an open place, looking around again. No one’s looking except them.

So he does a double pirouette, the same he did for Lucas last week. But this time he doesn’t stumble. He lands it, looking at the guys, all three of their jaws dropped, and he laughs, quickly going back over to them. 

“That was graceful as hell,” Aaron says as Jens grabs his bag from the ground, and Jens laughs harder. 

“How long have you been doing ballet?” Robbe asks, handing him the skateboard. 

“Since I was kid,” Jens says, shrugging. 

“And this mystery Instagrammer has seen you dance?” Moyo asks. 

Jens hums. 

“Seen me do what I just did.” He avoids pronouns.

“And you’re not gonna tell us who it is,” Moyo says flatly. 

“No. But can you tell me the username?” Jens asks, and Moyo holds his phone up again so Jens can see it.

He repeats it to himself as the bell rings, over and over and over until he can practically hear it, like someone is whispering it to him as he falls behind the guys, holding the skateboard against his chest so it doesn’t hit people as they bustle around him, through the front door. 

As he walks down the hallway, he searches for the account, the letters still running through his mind. 

There are two pictures of him.

And a drawing.

Which makes his heart fucking _swell._

And the captions…

The caption on a photo of Jens’s back as he walks in the opposite direction (he remembers the exact night it was taken. It’s like he can’t forget anything when it comes to Lucas.) reads _falling_.

Jens smiles, setting his board under his chair and sitting. 

He thinks he might be falling too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lucas's Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/gpxvm.vdh/


	18. That's Okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *this chapter takes place the same day as last chapter idk if i made that clear

Lucas is still smiling as he shuts his door behind himself, a canvas tucked under his elbow, brushes and empty glass jar in hand. It’s a soft smile, the type of smile that’s absent-minded, that’s only really there when he’s forgetting something (in this case, the shoebox of oil paint tubes, which could be used as he plans on painting), the type of smile that only comes out after talking to his mom. 

It was a Skype call on his bed, her in the designated computer room. (She complained that she wants to show him her room. He reassured her that he’ll see it when he visits, eventually. This made her smile excitedly.) 

She looks better. Healthier. Happier. 

Her cheeks have filled out a little, and there’s colour in her face, a flush across her skin that makes Lucas smile. The glimmer in her eye in back, the glimmer that wasn’t there the last time he saw her. 

She showed him her nails, which she painted recently, and she was nearly jumping in her seat with how excited she was. He’d had to ask her to hold them in place long enough for him to see them clearly and he’d shown her his nails, laughing. They’re the same colour. She squealed, and she _did_ jump in her seat.

He smiled the whole time she’d talked, about the nice nurse with the red hair, though she couldn’t tell if it was dyed or natural, about one of the other patients, who is covered in tattoos and will tell the stories behind all of them to whoever asks, about another who won’t talk or make eye contact, but let her pray with him. 

“He smiled so brightly when I asked,” she said. “And we prayed for his kids, and you, and he didn’t talk after, but it was nice to get to know him that tiny bit, you know?” 

“That’s really nice, Mom.”

“So what about you?” 

“...What about me?”

“Any new friends? Any new boys?” (She asked this with a silly quirk of her eyebrows and a smile.) (And his face flushed.) 

“I don’t know. I’ve been hanging out with Milan, and Zoë and Senne.” 

“Zoë and Senne…”

“Zoë and Milan have lived together for a while and Senne moved in with Zoë. They’re nice, you’d like them.”

“No new friends?” 

“Mom, I’m doing virtual school. I haven’t really met anyone.” 

“ _No one?_ ” 

“I mean, there’s…” 

She started cooing here, and he looked away, chuckling. 

“Tell me!” 

“There’s this guy—” 

“Oh, gosh.” 

She adjusted her seat, pulling her legs up and propping her chin on her hands like a child at storytime. 

“He’s…” Lucas had sighed, smiling, speechless.

“Describe him.” 

“Beautiful.” 

She’d laughed.

“Now are you speaking as an artist, or..?” 

“I guess, yeah.” 

“Okay, keep going.” 

“He’s…” He sighed again. “He’s got nice cheekbones.” He touched his own cheeks absentmindedly as he talked. “And a good nose.” 

She started laughing, harder. 

“Speaking as an artist!” he interrupted, defensively, also laughing. 

“No, keep—keep going.” 

“His eyes are brown, a really pretty brown. And his eyelashes are dark. He’s got a mole here.” He’d touched next to his own eye and she’d cooed again. 

“He’s good to draw?”

“ _Really_ good to draw.”

“You’ve found your muse!” 

“I think so.”

She’d paused a moment, smiling and clapping giddily. 

“Is he your boyfriend?”

He’d flushed, a smile stretching across his blushing face. 

“Yes.”

She’d screamed. 

“But it’s a secret,” he’d added. “He’s not out to his friend. And I don’t know if he’s out to his mom.” 

“Do you know his friends?” 

“Some of them, yeah. They’re nice.” 

“Okay.” She’d grinned. “Tell me more about him.”

“Uhm… He’s got a little sister. And he’s a really good brother to her, he’s got her drawings on his wall. And he helps her with her homework. He plays guitar for her.”

“He plays _guitar_?”

“He plays guitar!” 

“Lucas, he’s perfect.”

“And he’s a ballet dancer.” 

“ _What?_ ”

And Lucas had just started giggling, nodding as she squealed again, louder. 

“I love him already.” 

“You’ll like him.” 

“I’m gonna meet him?” 

“Eventually, yeah.” 

Lucas suppresses a smile as he turns into the living room, startling when he sees Milan sitting on the sofa, his legs crossed in front of him, his phone in his hands. 

“You’re still here?” he says, placing the canvas on the coffee table. “I thought you had school.”

“I don’t have class today.” Milan lowers his phone and smiles up at him as Lucas nods awkwardly, unsure about if Milan had heard any of what he’d said to his mom. “So you emerger from your den to make art when there’s no one home?” Milan gestures at the canvas and brushes. 

“Uh… yes?” 

“Just so long as you don’t get paint on my carpet.” 

“I haven’t and I won’t.” Lucas sets the brushes down too, cocking his head sassily as Milan raises his eyebrows. “And actually I kind of need paint to paint, I’ll be right back.” 

When he comes back, Milan is laying on the sofa, looking at his phone. He doesn’t look up as Lucas places the heavy box full of tubes of paint on the table.

“Was that your mom?” Milan asks as Lucas kneels and sits on the floor, pulling out the bottle of white spirits. Lucas looks up, taking a breath before answering. 

“Yeah. We haven’t talked in a while, it was nice.” 

Anxiety builds in his chest when Milan drops his phone and looks at him, even though there’s nothing in Milan’s face or eyes to indicate that he’s about to interrogate Lucas about his relationship with Jens. (And Lucas didn't even say Jens’s name. Though, he supposes, maybe Milan could guess, based on the description, even if it wasn’t that specific. But there are so many people in the city; it’s not like Lucas only knows who Milan knows.) (Of course he does only know who Milan knows. But Milan doesn’t know that.) (His thoughts are going too fast for him to catch up.) 

“Next time you call can I say hi to her?” 

“Yeah, of course.” 

Milan grins cheekily and looks back to his phone, and Lucas shakes his head, smiling as he pulls out a tube of paint. 

He forgot the palette. 

\---

Lucas likes seeing Jens, waiting out in front of the studio with his duffle bag hanging from his shoulder. As Lucas gets closer, he smiles, noticing Jens’s pointe shoes, hanging off the bag, the straps of the shoes messily tied to it, and the smile grows when he realises Jens is wearing black tights, the almost sheer material stretching over his legs as he steps toward Lucas. 

Lucas is practically checking him out, even as Jens reaches out, beaming, and pulls him in, pressing their mouths together in a messy kiss. As their lips move together lazily in a greeting, Jens grabs Lucas’s hoodie, pulling him into the alley. 

When they pull away, Lucas places his hands on Jens’s face, pushing away his hair and running his thumbs over his cheekbones. 

“What’s up?” Lucas asks, seeing Jens’s smile. It’s small but bright, looking like he’s trying to suppress it unsuccessfully. Jens shrugs, kissing him again and then pulling away to look at him, brushing his fingertips over his forehead, pushing a curl out of the way. 

“What is it?” Lucas presses. 

Jens looks so… happy. There’s a shine in his eyes like he has a secret. Lucas can’t help but smile back, dropping his hands to hold Jens’s hood. 

“ _What?_ ”

“I, uhm…” Jens’s smile grows and he leans in, kissing Lucas deeply (Lucas lets him) before pulling back. “I told the guys about the ballet.” 

Lucas pulls away further, looking at him as Jens beams, and Lucas blinks in surprise. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah.” Jens looks proud, and Lucas lets out a happy laugh, tugging him in to kiss him. Jens slides his arms around Lucas’s waist, pulling him closer. Lucas can feel Jens’s smile against his mouth. 

“How did it go?” he asks when they separate. 

“Good. I did a pirouette, and Aaron said, and I quote, it was ‘graceful as hell.’” 

Another laugh bubbles out of Lucas and he kisses him again, pride filling his heart.

“And Moyo and Robbe?” 

“Good. Surprised.” 

“Well,” Lucas says, tilting his head back and forth. “Valid.” 

Jens chuckles, tilting his own head and looking at him almost fondly.

“Yeah.” 

They gaze at each other for a second, Jens's hand slipping to the small of his back as Lucas strokes the exposed skin of Jens’s neck. 

“I’m proud of you,” Lucas says quietly, and Jens beams, his whole face lighting up. He kisses Lucas again, gently sucking his lower lip before releasing it.

“What made you decide to tell them?” Lucas asks after a second, and then the shine is back in Jens’s eyes. 

“Uhm,” Jens sighs, looking away over Lucas's shoulder before looking back into his eyes. Lucas looks right back at him. Eye contact is weird sometimes. But it’s always easy with Jens. 

Everything is easy with Jens.

“Moyo found something. Online.” 

Lucas’s heart drops, suddenly nervous, though he doesn’t really know why. 

“Found what?” 

“A picture. Of me.” 

Lucas can feel his smile drop and his hands still on Jens, but he doesn’t say anything. What could he say?

“He found your account,” Jens finishes, knowing. 

“My account,” Lucas repeats absently, stepping back slightly. He barely hears himself. 

“The art of existence.” 

_Fuck._

Lucas steps back again without thinking, his fingers still wrapped around the fabric of Jens’s hoodie. He lets out a sort of huff, a breath of anxiety and regret, and stammers, “I’m sorry.” 

“No, Lu—” 

“I shouldn’t have…” He trails off, shaking his head as his eyes flicker back and forth between Jens’s. Shouldn’t have posted the pictures, shouldn’t have taken the pictures, shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have—

“No—Lucas, baby.” 

Jens’s hands tighten around his waist and pull him back in. Lucas stumbles as Jens tugs him closer, his hands flattening against Jens’s chest to catch himself. Jens is smiling.

“It’s okay.” 

Lucas’s brow furrows in confusion and he takes a short, deep breath. Jens nods as he does, sliding his hands over Lucas’s sides, trying to calm him. 

“It’s…” 

“It’s fine. It’s okay.”

“...Why?” 

“Why is it okay?” Jens laughs lightly as Lucas nods, shrugging. “I don’t know. It just is.” 

“But it’s… I shouldn’t have…” 

“Baby.” 

Jens takes a deep breath and nods slowly as Lucas copies him. 

“Why are you so fine with it?” Lucas asks after a second. 

Jens sighs, adjusting his grip on Lucas.

“I don’t know. I think something about you calling me _your_ dancer, just…” 

Lucas scoffs and shakes his head as Jens grins, and Jens leans down to kiss him, one hand coming up to hold the back of Lucas’s head. 

When they separate, Lucas sighs, slipping his hands to hold the sides of Jens’s neck, his eyes still closed. He can feel his heartbeat start to slow down, though he hadn’t noticed the spike. 

“You okay?” Jens asks quietly.

Lucas nods and opens his eyes, looking up at him. Jens’s eyes are soft on him, smiling, though the rest of his face is still. 

“You don’t think it’s creepy?” Lucas asks, his voice soft, as his thumbs brush back and forth over Jens’s warm skin. 

“Mm…” Jens kisses him. “I think if it was anyone else, maybe.” 

Lucas scoffs again. 

“You’re ridiculous.” 

“I know.” 

Lucas pulls him in and Jens leans down slightly so their foreheads press together. Lucas’s eyes close again and he takes a deep breath, hearing Jens do the same. Their bodies sway together, and Lucas wraps his arms around Jens’s neck, pulling his head back only to lean in and bury his face between his arm and Jens’s neck. He doesn’t see Jens smile, but he feels Jens’s arms wrap tightly around his waist. 

“I told them not to follow you,” Jens murmurs, and Lucas hums against his neck. “Figured it’s a safe space kind of thing.” 

Lucas’s lips curve into a smile and he lifts his head enough to kiss Jens’s skin. 

“Thank you,” he whispers. 

They stay there for a moment, holding each other and swaying, while the clouds shift above them, as cars speed down the road and people chatter on the sidewalk in front of the studio. 

“How did Moyo find it?” Lucas asks suddenly, pulling away to look at Jens’s face. As he looks, Jens’s eyes open slowly, like he’s sleepy. 

“No idea. I don’t want to ask in case it starts up another round of interrogation.” 

“Interrogation?” Lucas raises his eyebrows.

“Mhmm.” Jens smiles softly and his eyes scan Lucas’s face. “They call you the mystery Instagrammer.” 

“You didn’t tell them it’s mine?” 

Jens shakes his head, the smile fading, and Lucas brushes his thumbs over his cheekbones fondly.

“That’s okay.” 

“I’m not ready to come out.” 

“That’s okay,” he reassures him again, nodding and smiling. 

“I don’t know what I’m so scared of,” Jens says. 

“You don’t need a reason.” 

Lucas leans up and kisses him softly. 

“You can be my dancer and I can be your secret.”

Jens smiles and kisses him again, sighing as Lucas’s hands slip into his hair. Lucas smiles when he feels Jens’s teeth dig into his lip gently. 

They both gasp as they part, their faces close enough that Lucas can feel Jens’s breath on his face, soft as the wind. 

“I don’t want you to have to be a secret,” Jens says.

“It won’t be always,” Lucas brushes his thumb over his skin, softly touching the mole by his eye. “Just until you’re ready.”


	19. Don’t move.

Jens didn’t miss the look Lucas gave him on Thursday, when he first showed up outside the studio. The gaze that scraped down Jens’s legs before sliding back up to his eyes as they both leaned in for a kiss (that Jens willingly would have intensified had they not been on a sidewalk in public), a look that made Jens’s face burn and split open into a grin, a look that made half of Jens want to drag him home and rip off the heavy hoodie he was wearing. (The other half was his more logical side.)

Although, he doesn’t really think Lucas would complain if he had to go off of how slowly Lucas eyed the tights. Jens would let Lucas strip them from his legs.

Which he should really stop thinking about. 

His excuse is that he’s a teenage boy. 

And Lucas is hot. 

It’s not like he’s telling anyone, of course, about the image in his head, of Lucas’s eyes, drifted half-shut and cloudy, of his curls wet across his forehead his fingers tangled in Jens’s hair, holding on like his life depends on it. 

That’s as far as Jens lets himself go.

But he can’t seem to help himself when he feels Lucas’s teeth on his lip, or his tongue against Jens’s, or his legs wrap around his waist, can’t help but let his hands wander to the small of his back (or lower), can’t help but let his grip tighten. 

But he always pulls away when he needs to, no matter how heated it is. (Or how heated _he_ is.)

There’s always a gasp between their faces, both flushed, their lips red and shiny, a moment before their eyes open and lock, and they smile, not letting go. 

They tend to hold onto each other as they talk, too, their legs entwined in front of them, if Lucas isn’t sitting on top of him, their fingers curled around each other or lightly tracing each other’s hands and arms as they talk quietly like they don’t want anyone else to hear them, exchanging soft kisses and soft gazes between words. Or Jens will lay his head on Lucas’s shoulder. Or Lucas will nudge his face into Jens’s neck, gently kissing him as he talks. (It can be distracting at times.)

Someone would call it the honeymoon phase, probably. 

Jens hopes it lasts forever. 

He also just hopes he and Lucas last forever. He likes looking at him, likes gazing at his freckles and the line of his jaw, the angle of his brows, the mole above his lip. If Jens were an artist, he would draw, paint, and sculpt him, in every medium possible, over and over and over and over and over…

Jens huffs and tosses his phone away before he drops his head back on his pillow, covering his face with his arms as he groans loudly. 

And then he sighs. 

Heavily. 

Like he’s in a cheesy romance film. 

But he jumps up when his phone buzzes at the foot of his bed where he left it, throwing himself onto his knees as he lunges for it, already expecting a call from Lucas. He’s been looking forward to it all day, bored out of his mind.

“Hey, baby,” Jens says when Lucas’s face appears on the screen, after pushing his hair out of the way and attempting to wipe the excited grin off his face. 

Lucas is looking past the camera, over the phone, looking preoccupied, but a low giggle escapes him before he says “Hi.” His head is turned slightly and Jens gazes at his jaw and neck as he hears a shuffling on Lucas’s end. 

Jens licks his lips and moves back to he’s leaning against the headboard of his bed, watching as Lucas places something in front of himself and then carefully places the phone so it stays up in front of him. The image lags for a second and then Lucas has his chin set on his hand, his fingers curled around a pencil. He’s smiling softly.

“What are you doing?” Jens asks, and Lucas sighs heavily, leaning back in his deskchair, stretching his arms over his head. (Jens wonders if his shirt rides up as he does.) (He ignores the thought.)

“I don’t know,” he huffs, dropping his elbows on the desk, setting his chin on his palms again. “I want to draw but I don’t know what.”

“Hm.” Jens pouts like he’s thinking as Lucas frowns. 

“Motivated but uninspired.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“What would you draw?” 

“Probably you.” Jens grunts as he sits up again, turning around and setting his phone against the headboard before lowering himself to lay on his stomach. He lays down, his chin resting on his forearms, crossed over each other, and watches Lucas, who has a blank, spacey expression on his face, which Jens recognizes as him thinking about art, and Jens smiles. 

“Yeah, I can do that,” Lucas says absently, almost like he’s saying it to himself, his expression unchanging. 

“You’re gonna draw yourself?

Lucas blinks. 

“What? No, I’m gonna draw you.”

“Hm?” 

“Yeah, like my phone screen with you on it.” 

Jens’s brow furrows and he grins.

“That’s not what I said?” 

“Eh.” Lucas flips open his sketchbook. “I take inspiration where I can get it. Don’t move.” 

“Okay,” Jens says softly. 

It’s quiet as Lucas draws, the scratches of his pencil sounding like echos, and Jens tries not to smile every time Lucas glances up at him. 

“So pretty,” Lucas murmurs, almost absentmindedly, and Jens can’t stop the grin that overtakes his face. 

“You sure?” 

“So sure.” Lucas leans back, looking at the drawing, and then to Jens, and then back. “And you look even better in tights.”

Jens feels his face flush and his body heat up like he’s suddenly embarrassed. 

“Oh is that so?” Jens raises his eyebrows, watching how Lucas’s tongue peeks out from between her lips as he focuses, the sound of the light, gentle pencil strokes on the paper coming through. 

“Mhmm. It’s one of your best looks.”

“Why thank you.” 

Lucas lifts his head and winks comically with an expression like an exaggerated grimace, and Jens giggles. 

“You’re ridiculous,” he says, mumbling against his arm. 

“Am I?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Well, can a ridiculous person do _this_?” Lucas holds up the sketchbook so Jens can see, but he can’t see most of the drawing, tiny squares of gray glitching across the screen. 

“That…” Jens looks closer. “...is a rectangle with a circle in it.” 

“Oh, I drew it too lightly, you can’t see it,” Lucas says as he turns it back around. “You don’t have a face yet, it’s just guidelines so far, so you’re not really missing anything.”

“It’s a very nice circle, though.” 

“It is, isn’t it?” 

Jens laughs against his arm again. 

“So what did you do today?” Lucas asks, looking up at him before looking back to his drawing. 

“Thought about you.” 

“All day?” 

“There was some homework and dishwashing peppered in there, but pretty much, yeah.”

“You could have a problem.” 

“Eh.”

“But to be fair, I’ve been thinking about you pretty much all day too.” Lucas smiles and Jens’s heart flutters. “Also I have a question.” 

“Ask me.” 

Lucas hesitates. 

“Can I—Can I tell my friend in Utrecht about us? He was one of the first people I came out to.”

“Yeah, of course.” 

Lucas pauses.

“Really?” 

“Yes?” Jens’s brow furrows. “Why not?” 

“I don’t know, I just…” 

“You can tell anyone,” Jens says like it’s obvious. “I mean, except Milan and Zoë. And Robbe. And—”

“All your friends.” Lucas’s brows are raised as he suppresses a smile. 

“...Yes.”

Jens smiles when Lucas giggles. 

“I think Ralph is going to scream when I tell him.” 

“Valid.” 

“I’m going to show him a picture of you so he can appreciate your face.” Lucas looks up to watch Jens react.

“Shut up.” He still hasn’t really learned how to respond to Lucas’s compliments. 

“Mmmmm, no.”

Jens snorts as Lucas looks back down at his drawing and it goes quiet. He closes his eyes for a few seconds, listening to him draw, sitting in his presence, before he hears Lucas huff frustratedly. 

“What is it?” 

Lucas drops his pencil and leans over his arms on the desk, looking at Jens intently. 

“I want a kiss.” 

Jens scoffs and then laughs lightly, lifting his head and leaning forward to kiss the camera, anticipating Lucas’s loud laugh before he hears it. 

“It’s like you kissed my eyes.” 

“Would if I could.”


	20. Always Have People

Lucas’s face falls as he rereads the words on his screen. 

_Call ended._

He lets himself deflate, his shoulders dropping as he sighs, closing his eyes. He puts his elbows on his desk in front of him, holding his face in his hands as he squeezes his eyes shut, tensing his face and shoulders before collapsing, dropping so his head rests on his forearms, crossing on the cold surface of his desk. He feels it against his skin, the sleeves of his worn sweater rolled up past his elbows, and he embraces it, focuses on it, lets it consume him, until he lifts his head, pulling his sleeves down over his hands, tugging them past his fingers and gripping them in his fists, the material twisted around his fingers. He lifts his hands and rubs the material on his face, letting it scratch gently, his eyes still closed.

He lets himself be alone.

The flat is empty, Zoë and Senne off somewhere, Milan on a lunch date, and it’s silent, except for the hum of his heater and the quiet sounds of the flat settling, creaks in the wood floor and doors. His hands drift from his face, crossing over his chest to cradle his shoulders, which are slightly shrugged up, uncomfortable and stiff. 

He doesn’t notice his feet tapping the ground anxiously, hitting against the wood of the floor and of the leg of his char, doesn’t notice his teeth tugging at his bottom lip, biting the skin, doesn’t notice how it hurts. He doesn’t hear anything. 

So he jumps when he hears his computer chime loudly, after who knows how long, and he looks up when it continues, the screen glowing, letting him know that Ralph is calling him. 

He lets go of himself, pushing his shoulders down and rubbing his face quickly, taking a deep breath before he answers, forcing a smile. 

“Hey.”

“Hello, my love!” Ralph is grinning, his arms crossed on the table in front of him, a table Lucas doesn’t recognise. He doesn’t recognise the room behind Ralph either, the wall that sunlight is streaming across, or the fixture hanging from the ceiling. “Are you okay?” 

Lucas looks from the fixture to Ralph and sees that his smile has dropped slightly, his brows furrowed. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” he lies. “Uhm, where are you?” 

“I’m in Norway, visiting a friend.” Ralph looks over his computer screen and waves a hand. 

Another man joins him, tossing an arm around Ralph’s shoulders. He has short strawberry blonde hair. He looks kind of like a fairy. 

“Hi, I’m Eskild,” he says in English, and Lucas smiles, waving. 

“Hey,” Lucas says, pointing at him, suddenly recognising him. “You were at that party in Utrecht, right?” 

Eskild nods, grinning. 

“I’m Lucas.”

“Ralph has told me all about you, he loves you.” 

“Aw.” Lucas grins as Ralph shoves at Eskild. (There’s a “Shut up!” that Lucas _almost_ misses.) 

“You said you had to tell me something?” Ralph asks when Eskild lets go of him, stepping to the side. 

“Yeah, so—”

“Is it okay that I’m here?” Eskild interrupts, holding his hands up. “I can leave if you want.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Actually you’ll probably be happy too, you guys seem to be kindred spirits.” 

Eskild coos excitedly, pulling a chair up next to Ralph’s and Ralph moves over. Lucas waits as they get situated. 

“Okay, tell us,” Ralph says, and they both look up at him. 

“So…” Lucas takes a deep breath. He pauses, hearing a creak in the floor, and waits for a few seconds, listening, and continues when he doesn’t hear anything else. “I have a boyfriend.” 

“You have a _what?_ ” Ralph practically yells and Eskild exclaims and claps. Lucas giggles, covering his face. “Wait, say that again, I wanna hear it again.”

“I have a boyfriend.” 

“Oh my god.” Ralph takes a heavy breath and looks away before looking back. “Do you remember when you told me—” 

“Ralph, sto-o-op.” 

“—that you didn’t think you’d ever find someone?” 

Eskild watches them, his jaw dropped, his hands still clasped in front of him. 

Lucas sighs, smiling, and looks away, exasperated. 

“I think I was…” 

“What?” Eskild prompts when he trails off, and Lucas pauses before finishing his thought. 

“I think I was waiting for him.” 

They both squeal loudly, grabbing at each other, and Lucas laughs. 

“That’s so fucking cute, oh my _god_ ,” Ralph says, shoving Eskild’s shoulder.

“I _know._ ”

“What’s his name?” Ralph asks, leaning over, his elbows in the table.

“Jens.” Lucas can feel his face burning, can feel his cheeks flushing bright, and it only makes his smile more. 

“Jens,” Ralph sighs. “Tell us about him, is he pretty?” 

“ _Yes_.” 

They both snicker. 

“How did you meet?” Eskild asks. 

“Uhm… So I just kind of wander the city a lot, and one day I happened to be outside his dance studio when he was finishing practise.” 

“Wait, his what studio?” Ralph asks, his jaw dropped and his eyes wide. 

“Dance? He’s a ballerina.” 

They both start yelling, grabbing at each other again, a mess of “ _Oh my go-o-o-od!_ ” and “ _Ballerina!_ ”, and Lucas laughs again, pressing his sweater-covered hands over his mouth. 

“Lucas, you are… living my dream,” Eskild says when they manage to calm down, and Lucas laughs harder, not knowing what to say. 

“How long have you guys been together?” Ralph asks. 

“Uhm, a few weeks? I don’t really know what actually like, was the start of the relationship, if that makes sense.”

“Explain, please.” 

“Like…” Lucas sighs. “When we first started hanging out, we were already kind of… flirty?” They both are smiling at him, and he keeps talking, trying to ignore it. “Like teasing and stuff, and then holding hands and playing with each other’s hair. And we went on a few dates.” 

“Where to?” Ralph asks. 

“A cafe, skateparks. Honestly, just us hanging out outside his studio felt like dates.” 

“That’s precious,” Eskild says. 

“Who made the first move?” Ralph asks, setting his chin on his palm. 

“Uhm,” Lucas pauses, thinking. “I asked to hang out first. And then I kissed him, but we didn’t talk about it at all. And then I told him to kiss me because he was taking too long.”

“Ooo, Lucas is _bold_.” 

He shrugs, smiling bashfully. 

“Wait, have you guys…” Ralph doesn’t finish the question, lowering his chin and raising his eyebrows as Eskild punches his shoulder.

“Ralph…” Lucas looks away, feeling like he just shoved his face into a pool of lava, suppressing a smile. 

“I can’t tell if that’s a yes or a no.” 

“No, we haven’t.” 

“Okay,” Ralph says, holding his hands up like he’s surrendering. “Not a problem.” 

“Do you want to?” Eskild asks, curiosity clearly getting the best of him.

“I mean…” Lucas sighs. “I guess, yeah. But if he doesn’t want to, like if it doesn’t happen, I won’t be upset, you know?” 

“You’re an angel, Lucas van der Heijden,” Ralph says, and Lucas’s smile grows again. 

He doesn’t feel as sad anymore.

Ralph seems to remember at the same time as him. 

“Hey, did something happen before I called? You seemed… off.”

“I, uhm…” He pauses, contemplating whether or not to tell them. “I’d been talking to Jayden.”

“Jayden, skater Jayden?” 

Lucas chuckles at this, the way Ralph has managed to remember his friends that he doesn’t know well. _Skater Jayden, Skater Kes, Liv’s Noah, Liv’s Isa_ , etc.

“That’s the one.”

“Who’s Jayden?” Eskild asks, looking confused. 

“One of Luc’s friends in Utrecht.” 

Eskild nods, looking back to Lucas. 

“Tell us,” Ralph says, and Lucas almost laughs at the seriousness of it all, at how they’re both looking at him like they’re his dads.

“I don’t know, I haven’t really been keeping up with him or Kes. Or anyone, really, except you and Noah. And we just happened to be online at the same time so he asked if I wanted to call and I said yeah, so…” He pauses, rubbing his face, feeling them both looking at him. “It was awkward at first, just because we haven’t been talking, and then it was fine, and then—” He cuts himself off, huffing and tossing his hands, suddenly frustrated. Pissed. 

“What happened?” Eskild presses softy. 

“I don’t know, he just… He started acting weird and then he kind of made a comment that like… that I’ve changed. And I tried to just shrug it off and I made a joke about moving countries, and he acted like… Like it was weird.” 

“What the hell?” Ralph drops his hand and makes a face. “Did he say anything?” 

“He said ‘You’ve changed,’ and then ‘Why are you acting like this?’ but when I asked what he meant he just changed the subject. And when we hung up it was just really uncomfortable and weird, and I just…” 

“What the hell?” Ralph repeats. 

“He seemed upset,” Lucas adds, his voice small, and for a second he thinks they couldn’t hear him. 

“He can’t be upset about that,” Eskild says suddenly, looking at Ralph and then Lucas on the screen. “That’s what people do.” 

“Yeah, exactly,” Ralph says, pointing at him. “That’s basically the meaning of life. The whole point of existence is change and growth.” Lucas listens intently. “And he may not know it but the way that you’ve changed has been growth. Every time we’ve talked since you moved to Antwerp, you seem more and more at ease with yourself, and you seem happier and happier.” 

Lucas smiles. 

“He can’t be mad that you’re changing,” Ralph continues, looking angry. “If you walk into a forest and find a sprig, you can’t be mad when you go back five years later and find a tree. That’s not—” He huffs and Eskild places a hand on his forearm. 

“He has no reason to be upset,” Eskild continues for him. “It’s not like he hasn’t changed at all, right?” 

“His hair is longer,” Lucas contributes. “And he has a new earring.”

“There you go, are you mad about it?” 

Lucas laughs. 

“No.” 

“Exactly. Jayden’s a dummy.” 

Lucas and Ralph laugh again, shaking their heads at Eskild. 

“And why haven’t you been talking to them, was it just, like…” Ralph asks. 

“I don’t know, when I first moved we talked a lot and kept up, but eventually it felt like I was the only one actually trying. Like, all their texts felt dry, and I just felt like they didn’t want to talk to me.” They nod. “Which could just be anxiety, but I stopped texting first as much and it just dwindled.” 

“So none of them really talk to you?” Ralph says, looking surprised, and Lucas shakes his head. 

“Not really.” 

“You can’t give a hundred percent in a relationship with someone who won’t even give fifty,” Eskild says, and Ralph nods, pointing at him. 

“Yeah,” Lucas sighs. “I’m kind of over it, I’m not that mad.”

They both look at him, looking sympathetic, their eyes soft. 

“I mean, it hurt at first. But I’ve got Jens. And you guys, and Noah. And some friends here. It’ll be fine.”

Ralph smiles sadly. 

“That’s true. You’ll always have people.” 

“I’ll always have people.” 

There’s a moment of silence and then Lucas snickers quietly. 

“You guys are good… what’s the word I’m looking for, mentors? Confidants?”

“Gurus,” they say simultaneously, and then exclaim and point at each other excitedly as Lucas says, “That’s it!” 

Ralph and Eskild laugh hysterically, and Lucas can’t help but laugh with them. 

He gets Eskild’s phone number and Instagram before they hang up.


	21. This Is Lucas

It’s like Jens’s mom is in mourning. 

At first, she seemed like she was getting better, like it was affecting her as much, just after a few days. She seemed sad for a little bit, and then she started laughing more, grinning when Lotte made fun of Jens, humming as she cleaned the dishes or swept the floor. 

But when she thinks no one is looking, she looks sad. 

Her mouth turns into a frown, the corners of her mouth turning down slightly like there are strings attached, tugged toward the ground. Her eyes turn dim, the sparkle that always shines fogging over as her eyes unfocus. Her hair sometimes falls into her face, strands covering her eyes. She doesn’t push it away like she usually does. The lines in her face deepen, and she looks older. And alone, sitting in her seat at the dinner table, or standing by the sink, letting the steaming water just run from the faucet, her soapy hands unmoving. 

_Mom?_

It was like she didn’t hear him for a second, and then she lifted her hands, turning toward him, blinking, pushing her hair out of her face, pressing it to her head. There were bubbles caught in her hair, white soapy foam streaked across the top of her head, and she didn’t notice. 

And she smiled, the shine in her eyes coming back. 

And he just gave her a kiss on her forehead before telling her that he would put the dishes away. _Don’t worry about it_ , he’d said. She smiled, a little smile of relief and Jens wished he could do more. 

He wishes he could know what’s wrong. He assumed it was about her father, even though it was weeks ago that she shoved him, cursed him, kicked him out of her home. But every time he looks at her when she’s like this, when she looks dull and worn out, he can’t help but feel like there’s more to it, like maybe it’s unrelated to Dilan, like maybe he was the trigger or just one of the straws on the camel’s back. 

Which worries him. 

He forgets about it when he dances though. If he’s honest, he forgets about everything when he dances, about school, homework, the guys, Lucas, his mom, Lotte, everything good, and everything bad. There’s nothing in those moments, nothing except him and the music. In those moments, the whole world ceases to be, and he can’t feel the pain in his toes from the pointe shoes, he can’t feel the uncomfortable itch at the top of his spine from the cut-off tag on his leotard, he can’t even hear his instructor counting with the music. 

_One, and two, and three, and four, and five, and six, and se-ven, eight_   
_One, and two, and three, and four, and five, and six, and se-ven, eight_   
_One, and two, and three, and four, and five, and six, and se-ven, eight_

He’s hardly even conscious of the other dancers around him as their bodies weave around each other, as their limbs flow through the air gracefully like they’re underwater. He barely feels his hair falling against his forehead, brushing over his eyes as he spins, leaping through the air, a breath escaping him as he lands like wind rushing through a forest. There’s not a cell in his body that thinks to hesitate, not a sense of maybe, and if he didn’t have to see, his eyes would drift shut.

They do drift shut as he spins, one leg bent with his pointed foot at his knee, his arms gently curved downward as his head turns, until he lifts his arms, his hands loosely linked above his head as his body spins faster and faster, like a skater on ice, until he stops, stepping forward, one arm extended in front of himself, the other trailing behind him, and his eyes open, catching at the corner of the room. His muscles tense, ready to lift his body into an arabesque, and the music cuts off abruptly. 

He drops his arms awkwardly, stepping back as he faces the instructor, standing in front of the mirror. Her dark hair is pulled back into a tight, slick bun, the harsh lights of the studio are reflecting on it as she looks down at her phone, which is plugged into the speaker next to her. 

“I just realised we’re five minutes overtime,” she says, looking up. She’s grinning almost mischievously, and the other dancers scoff at her. 

Her name is Cecile, and she’s in her late thirties, though she refuses to tell them how old she is exactly. Usually, during practice, they call her Cec, just to grab her attention, but Lena and Jens call her Madame Cecile just to annoy her. (There’s always a “Stop _calling_ me that!” followed by their snickers.) 

“You can stretch and stuff if you want, but…” She checks the small watch on her wrist. “The next group will be here soon so you can also just leave.” 

Jens looks to Damien, who’s leaning against the wall, his hands behind his back, and they both shrug at each other before heading to the door, following a stream of dancers. Lena ends up in front of Jens and he grabs the smooth bun at the top of her head, pulling gently. She reaches up and smacks him. (He also hears a faint “I’ll kill you,” and he snorts as they part ways in the hallway.)

\--- 

Jens squeezes past some jazz dancers as he follows his friends down the hall. He can’t hear what Lena is saying, but he can see her face as she walks backwards to look at Damien, and she looks quite passionate, her eyes wide, a hand lifted and pointing at Damien. 

Jens manages to step up next to Rosa as they walk through the lobby of the studio, past the front desk, sliding his arm over her shoulder, and she leans into him affectionately. 

“So we agree then?” Lena says, and Jens cocks his head at her, confused. “If Jens doesn’t get the solo this year, we all riot?” 

He laughs and feels Rosa laugh next to him, her shoulders shaking. Damien nods to Lena when she points at him, her brows raised almost threateningly.

“I’ll riot with you,” Rosa says, her voice light, and Lena inhales deeply through pursed lips, pointing at her. 

“I think Rosa rioting is like… God’s worst fear.” 

Jens laughs as Rosa giggles shyly, looking down, and he catches Damien laughing softly too, looking at Rosa with soft eyes. 

“I don’t think I’m going to get the solo, guys,” he comments, pulling Rosa closer as they approach another dancer and she steps in front of him so they can pass. 

“Oh my god, shut up,” Lena says curtly. 

“I’m serious!”

“Well, stop it,” Damien says as he pulls his duffle bag against his chest to take up less space in the small entrance room. “You have to get it.” 

“Why wouldn’t K—”

“Because you’re gonna get it,” Rosa nearly shouts over him, and he laughs loudly. 

“You’re so obnoxious.” 

“ _I_ am?”

“You’re both obnoxious, shut up,” Lena says flatly, and they both giggle as Damien opens the door for them. There’s a rush of crisp air when the door swings open, and Jens shivers, pulling the sleeve of his jacket down over his hand, gripping it tightly.

“Oof. Hace frío.” Lena rubs her palms together in front of her face, and they all turn to her, confused.  
“Why are you speaking Spanish?” Rosa asks, cocking her head at her. Jens notices her take a tiny step toward Damien. 

“I’m on my DuoLingo shit. So I can talk to your abuela when I meet her.” 

Jens assumes this is a reference to a conversation he missed, but he almost laughs when he sees Rosa press her lips together, her eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“Yeah, about that…” 

Lena’s smile drops.

“I was just messing with you, she doesn’t only know Spanish.” 

Jens stifles his laughter with a hand as she stares at Rosa, her face blank until her eyes narrow. 

“Pendejo.”

“ _Hey!_ ” Rosa bursts out laughing, and Jens shakes his head at them as Lena pretends to throw a slap at her. 

He looks up, past Damien, over his shoulder, to the convenience store on the sidewalk, and catches sight of Lucas. 

The sunlight on him is dim, the lighting bluish, and Lucas is looking down at his phone, leaning against the wall. One leg is crossed over the other, a hand in the pocket of a purple hoodie he’s wearing, and Jens sees glints in the silver chains around his neck. He smiles softly even though Lucas doesn’t see him, and he barely hears Lena and Rosa bickering. (“You’re so _mean_.” “You _lied_ to me.” “Yeah, and it was funny.” “You—”)

“Hey guys?” he says suddenly, and it takes a second before they stop swatting at each other and look at him. 

“Yes?” Damien says.

“Uhm…” He pauses, taking a deep breath, and feels their eyes on him. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“Oh my god, it is your mom?” Lena asks flatly. 

“No?”

“Oh.” 

He hesitates, making a face at her, before looking past Damien again.

“Lu!” 

Lucas looks up from his phone, still leaning against the wall, his eyebrows raised as their eyes lock, and Jens grins before beckoning. The others watch, all turned to face Lucas, who stands up straight, tucking his phone into his pocket as he walks toward them, a smile on his face, his eyes sparkling. Jens holds an arm out as Lucas approaches them. 

“Hi,” Lucas says shyly, stepping up next to Jens. Jens grins again, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. 

“This is Lucas,” Jens says, tightening his arm around him, and Lucas’s cheeks flush even more pink than they already were from the cold. “Uh…” He takes a breath. “My boyfriend.” 

“You’re what’s been making this dummy smile like a fool?” Lena says, stepping in and punching Lucas gently. 

“I guess, yeah.” 

“He has that effect on me.” 

“I’m Damien,” Damien says, not letting Lena say anything else, and holds his hand out to Lucas, who shakes it. 

“Jens has told me about you guys.” 

“Told you what?” Rosa asks suspiciously, narrowing her eyes.

“Well you’re Rosa, and you’re soft spoken.” Lucas turns to Lena. “And you’re Lena, and you’re not soft spoken.” 

Jens laughs quietly when Lena says, “Okay, Jens, I’m going to have to have a talk with you,” and turns away from her, pressing a kiss to Lucas’s head. 

“You guys are really cute,” Lena says, watching. 

“We know,” Jens says, sighing, and Lucas snorts, sliding an arm around his waist, carefully slipping between him and the straps of the duffle bag. 

“Humble.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“How long have you been together?” Damien asks, and Lucas and Jens look at each other, perplexed.

“A few weeks, maybe?” Lucas says, turning to look back at Damien, and Jens takes the opportunity to gaze at the side of his face, smiling softly. 

He was less nervous about coming out to them than he is about coming out to the guys, though he really doesn’t know why. (Although, he also doesn’t know if he really came out. He supposes introducing his boyfriend does the job, but he didn’t say the words “I’m bisexual,” so does it really count? But he does feel lighter, almost relieved, so he thinks it does.) He’s glad they’re all focused on Lucas right now, as they poke fun at Jens, on Lucas telling the story of how they met, and Jens is only half listening. 

He feels at peace, smiling softly, staring absently at a crack in the pavement, a hand in his pocket and the other resting on the back of Lucas’s head, gently playing with his curls.

He feels like he’s dancing. 

He only looks back up and starts listening when he hears Lena say, “Oh, my girl’s here.” 

She’s looking down at her phone and types for a short few seconds before looking up and stepping over to Damien, getting up on her tiptoes and kissing his cheeks. 

“Bye, honey,” she says as she kisses Rosa’s cheeks, a stark difference to how they were acting before, and Jens laughs to himself. Lucas looks up at him, confused. 

“You missed them bickering earlier.” 

“Shut up, Jens,” Lena and Rosa say simultaneously, and now Lucas laughs. 

“It was nice meeting you, Lucas, I’ll see you around.” 

Lena leans up to kiss his cheeks and Lucas’s face flushes a light pink as he smiles at her (making Jens’s heart flutter), and she punches Jens after kissing his face, and then she leaves, skipping across the street to a motorcycle. 

“I should probably go to, actually,” Rosa says, glancing at her phone. “I’ll probably have to help Mom with dinner.” 

She does the same as Lena, first reaching up and kissing Damien’s cheeks (Damien’s shoulders shrug up and his face darkens and Jens suppresses a smile), then Lucas, who leans down so she can reach him, then Jens. 

“See you next week.” She waves sweetly as she turns and walks down the sidewalk, her hair, which she released from the ballet bun after practice, flying in the wind behind her. She could be in a L’Oréal commercial. Damien is scratching the back of his neck, watching her leave, looking like he’s forgotten about Lucas and Jens. 

Jens looks at Lucas, grinning, and then looks from Damien to Rosa pointedly, and Lucas gasps quietly, his jaw dropping, and he beams. 

“So, Damien,” he says slyly, and Damien looks at him, looking startled. 

“Yeah?”

“You and Rosa..” 

“Oh, we’re not—” His face turns red again and he shoves his hands into his pockets. “That’s not— It’s—No, we’re not…” He’s shaking his head at Lucas, and Jens laughs quietly, turning and pressing his forehead to Lucas’s temple.

“Should you, though?” Lucas asks, raising his eyebrows and turning his head.

“I…” Damien turns and looks to Jens sharply. “Did you put him up to this?” 

Jens laughs harder, lifting his head and half-raising his hands like he’s surrendering. 

“I didn’t do anything, man.” 

“Look.” Damien takes a deep breath. “I’m not gonna ask her out, because I know she wouldn’t say yes.” 

“Damien, I’ve known you guys for like ten minutes, and I know she would.”

Damien huffs. 

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t have to ask her out right now, obviously, just… Think about it. She’s so sweet, worst case scenario, she says no, and…” Lucas shrugs. 

Damien sighs, looking away, and Jens can see a small smile crawl across his face. 

“I’ll think about it.” 

Lucas smiles, satisfied, and Jens lets out a loud “What?” 

Lucas starts laughing and Damien looks to Jens. 

“Huh?” 

“How are you listening to him after like ten minutes but you don’t listen to me after literal years? What the fuck?” 

Damien laughs, doubling over slightly, before straightening and gesturing to Lucas. 

“I don’t know, I guess he just has a better way with words.” 

“All he said was ‘this about it!’” 

Damien is still laughing when his phone chimes in his pocket (Jens has chided him for leaving his ringer on during practice; Damien pointed out that he leaves the phone in his locker and it’s not bothering anyone.) and he pulls it out, looking away from them. 

Jens leans down slightly and kisses Lucas’s cheek softly, a quiet _I missed you_. Lucas gives him a little smile ( _I missed you too._ ) 

“Shit, my mom’s waiting for me, I forgot she was coming today.” Damien types for a second and then looks up. “I guess you guys have a date or something?” 

“Yup,” Jens answers before Lucas can say anything, and Lucas looks up, surprised. “An actual date, not just weed and a dumpster.” 

“I’m not even gonna ask,” Damien says, holding his hand out to Lucas. “I’ll see you later.” 

“So an actual date?” Lucas asks, turning to Jens as Damien makes his way across the street. 

“Yup. I don’t have school tomorrow.”

“Oh?”

“Mm-hmm. Come here.” 

Jens lets go of Lucas’s shoulders and they separate for a second before Jens grabs his arm, pulling him toward the alley. 

“Thought we had a date?” 

“Yeah, but first…”

He can hear Lucas giggling behind him as he pulls in into the alley, away from the street where the shadows hide them.

He turns, pushing Lucas against the wall and Lucas lets his head fall back, looking up at him with his chin up, looking smug. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi,” Jens breaths, leaning in and kissing him. Lucas takes in a deep breath, reaching up and sliding his cold hands over Jens’s neck, and Jens shivers, grabbing his waist and pulling him in. Lucas hums, tilting his head and opening his mouth.

He tastes like cherry chapstick, and Jens smiles. 

“How are you?” Lucas asks breathlessly when they separate, laying his head back on the wall. 

“Good.” 

Jens leans back in and kisses him harder, biting down on his lip, and a small noise escapes Lucas’s throat, emboldening Jens, and he reaches down, pulling at Lucas’s thighs. Lucas jumps up, wrapping his arms around Jens’s neck and Jens grins against his mouth. 

“How are you?” he asks when they pause for a breath and Lucas kisses him again before answering.

“Fantastic.” 

Jens laughs softly, pressing him against the wall harder, sliding his hands up and down his legs before tightening his grip on him as Lucas licks into his mouth. 

“Long week?” 

“Mm.”

When they finally pull away enough to look at each other, their faces are flushed, their lips slick, their eyes glassy. They gaze at each other for a second before giggling, their foreheads pressed together. Lucas’s ankles are locked at the small of Jens’s back, and his fingers are tangled in his hair. He gently tugs and Jens lifts his head enough for Lucas to kiss him gently. 

“Where are we going?” 

“Uhm…” He takes a deep breath before answering. “A cafe. We’re gonna get cake.”

Lucas gasps excitedly, raising his eyebrows.

“Really?” 

“Mm-hmm.” Jens feels like he’s glowing. 

Lucas kisses him again, beaming.


	22. But the Canvas

Jens holds Lucas’s hand all the way to the cafe (when they finally leave the alleyway), swinging their arms gently, brushing his thumb back and forth over Lucas’s skin. Lucas can feel Jens’s gaze on him every once in a while, and he looks back to him, catching his eye, and Jens smiles brightly before looking away. 

It’s only when they’re sitting across from each other, their legs tangled under the table, Lucas’s napkin already half-covered in doodles, that Lucas finally drops the menu, cocking his head and grinning at Jens, who is already smiling at him, his chin in his hands, his elbows on the table. 

“What?” Jens asks, the smile not fading.

“ _You_ what?” 

Jens snickers, looking away. 

It’s the same cafe they went to on their first date. (Although Lucas still doesn’t quite know if it was their _first_ date.) There aren’t many people, like last time, just a quiet elderly couple and a few college students with laptops and notebooks and pens. It’s gotten darker outside, and the glow of the lights in the cafe is golden, the whole room looking soft. 

He doesn’t answer, his eyes glistening under the light, and Lucas slides the menu away. 

“Why are you so smiley today?” he asks, and Jens’s face turns pink as he looks away again, shrugging, looking shy.

Before Lucas can press further, the waitress arrives, carrying a tray, and Lucas gives her a smile as she places his cake in front of him. She sets two forks on the plate and Lucas stifles a laugh.

When she leaves, Jens picks up one of the forks, taking a bite of the cake, and even though Lucas wants to do the same, he crosses his arms on the table in front of him, forcing himself to stop smiling.

“What?” Jens says, cracking a smile, but trying not to.

“You didn’t answer me.” 

Jens covers his mouth while he chews, and Lucas can see his smile in his eyes. After a second, he copes Lucas, crossing his arms and cocking his head. 

“I’m really happy,” he says softly.

“Good.” Lucas tilts his head the other way. “Now will you tell me why?” Their legs twist around each other. 

“I don’t know,” Jens says, laughing softly. “I’m just…” He sighs, and Lucas uncrosses his arms, finally taking his fork and taking a piece of the cake. Jens watches him as he does, his eyes sparkling. 

“Just…” Lucas says slowly, the fork stalling on its way to his mouth.

“I don’t know,” he says again. “I mean, I just came out to my friends and they didn’t even bat an eye, and—”

“ _Wait._ ” Lucas lowers the fork again, his eyes widening, and stares at Jens, who giggles and covers his face. “That was _coming out_ to them?” 

“Yeah,” he laughs, his voice muffled behind his hands. 

Lucas puts the fork on the plate before covering his mouth with his hands. He starts to smile, and suddenly he gets why Jens couldn’t stop. 

“Jens.” 

Jens keeps laughing, lowering his hands enough to look at Lucas.

“Yeah?” His voice shakes. 

“I thought they already knew.”

Jens chokes out a “No,” and keeps laughing. 

“Baby—” 

“They didn’t even really react to it, they just—” He drops his hands to the table, looking awestruck, and Lucas watches him, his heart soft. “They just, like… Started talking to you, and making fun of me like normal, like it wasn’t even… I don’t…” 

Lucas feels his eyes sting and he smiles shakily. 

He and Jens gaze at each other for a few seconds before Lucas leans across the table, and Jens doesn’t even take a look around before leaning in too. They kiss for just a second, partially because of the setting, partially because they’re leaning across the table, and partially because Jens has started to smile again. 

Which makes Lucas smile too.

“They didn’t even react,” Jens says, speechless. 

“I know!” 

“And I just feel so much, like, lighter. And practice was really good today, even though I’m really tired, it’s a good tired. And Damien said he’d think about asking Rosa out, and it’s all just really…” Jens covers his face again, beaming, and he closes his eyes. 

“Baby…” Lucas says, almost whining. 

Jens looks up at him, and Lucas could just about burst. Both their eyes are glassy, both their smiles genuine. 

“I’m proud of you.” 

“Can I have another kiss?”

“Yes, you can have another kiss,” Lucas giggles, leaning across the table, lifting his hands to hold Jens’s face, kissing him softly and slowly before pecking his lips repeatedly, until Jens’s nose scrunches up and he pulls back, laughing, but Lucas doesn’t let go, pulling him in again.

“Lu!”

“Hm?”

He pulls back, trying not to smile, but he can’t help it when he sees how Jens’s face has flushed. 

“ _A_ kiss.” 

“Oh, you’re complaining?” 

“...No?” 

Lucas laughs, kissing him once more before letting go and leaning back, finally picking up his fork again. He takes a bite, looking up at Jens as he rests his chin on his hand. 

“You’re so happy with your cake,” Jens says, trying not to laugh. 

“I’m happy with you.” 

“Aw.”

\--- 

Lucas lets the smell of the paint, blown around in his room by gusts of wind from the open window, overtake him. It’s heavy. 

He doesn’t know what he’s painting, didn’t have a plan when he started. There are globs of paint on the palette, shining under the light of his room, nearly blending in with the dry paint that was already there. He keeps going to get paint but ends up scraping the palette knife on dry paint. 

He’s cold, but he’s managed to ignore it, the sleeves of his old sweater rolled up over his forearms so they don’t get paint on them. The open window was a suggestion from Milan, so Lucas doesn’t “kill his brain cells” while making art. Lucas, at first, was resentful, but he knew he was right. Plus, he could use the fresh air. 

A part of him thinks the air actually helps him, gently blowing his curls out of his face. It makes him feel more in the moment like he’s part of the world and not just a part of his art. 

He has his headphones on too, his volume just too loud, and he doesn’t hear Milan open his door and ask him a question, and he doesn’t hear Milan say “Never mind,” and shut the door. His head is moving, just swaying the slightest bit in time with the music, letting the music overtake him like the wind. It’s almost imperceptible. 

He lets the colours overtake him too.

He didn’t really pay attention when he put the paint on the palette. There are shades of blue, and red, and yellow orange green purple pink. There’s a dark spot of black and a glowing one of white. The palette itself looks like a piece of art. 

But the canvas. 

The canvas is completely covered, sharp dashes of blues and greens covering one side of it before splintering into reds and oranges and yellows. The paint is thick, thick enough that there are hints of faces and eyes and hands carved into it, faces that are screaming and smiling, eyes that are crying tears of oil paint, hands reaching into the real world that Lucas sometimes wishes he could escape. There are circles of paint, carefully and delicately left in the trail of a twirling, pressed and flattened brush around the edges and centre of the canvas.

After a while, his back hurts, and he straightens it, closing his eyes as he looks up like he doesn’t want to see anything but the painting, like he can’t stand it. He sways more now, rocking back and forth, taking a deep breath, inhaling the fumes of the paint and the cold crisp air from outside. It feels like all of it, the music the paint and the wind, is coursing through his veins, making his heart pound even as he sits stationary. His jaw is clenched, just beginning to ache, and it releases as the song cuts off and starts over. Again. 

\--- 

It’s dark outside when he finally finishes.

It’s darker outside when he sits on his bed, his back against the wall, wrapped in a thick sweatshirt, the hood pulled up over his head. The window is closed now, the cold more unbearable when he isn’t focussed on something, but if he slides down the wall, lays his head on his pillow, if he gets the glare of his light off of the glass, he would be able to see the stars and the moon. He isn’t looking at the window, though. 

He set the painting up on his desk, placed it against the wall, so he can see it from his bed. He’s staring at it intensely, and now there’s no music to go with it. He’s conflicted. 

He wonders if people will see what he sees. 

But he supposes they don’t have to.

\---

He got a text from Jens while he was painting, but he didn’t open it until he was done. 

_Do you want to spend the night on Saturday?_

He’d grinned at the screen when he’d seen it, a resounding _yesyesyesyesyes_ blowing through him like the wind. 

_yes please_

They call a few minutes later, after Lucas has shut off the lights and covered himself in the comforter on his bed, the hood still pulled over his head, the quietness of the night stretching through the line, and Lucas smiles when he can hear Jens breathing. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi,” Jens whispers. 

“How are you?” 

Lucas whispers too.

“Sleepy. Excited.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Hm.” Lucas hears him sigh, and he can almost imagine him turning his face into the pillow, his eyes shut. He mumbles when he speaks. “Can fall asleep with you in my arms instead of on the phone.” 

Lucas smiles brightly into the dark.

“I’d like that.” 

“Me too.”

There’s a slight nervousness in him, an anxiety that he doesn’t get, but it dissipates when he listens to Jens’s sleepy breaths, when he imagines hearing them next to him instead of through a little speaker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what Lucas was listening to while painting (and I was listening to while writing):   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bkUHaz5lY3I


	23. He Doesn't Have To

warning: this chapter contains sexual content  
please skip it if youre uncomfortable  
stay safe <3

Jens forced himself to stay awake until Lucas answered his text. 

Even though his lights were off, and his blanket was pulled up around him, he looked at his phone, scrolling pointlessly and aimlessly, looking at videos and watching memes until Lucas responded. Jens’s heart jumped when he did, excited after hours of not hearing from him, ready to listen to his quiet voice. 

Jens was just about falling asleep when they called a few minutes later, after Lucas had put away his brushes and palette, and changed and brushed his teeth, and he could barely even talk, mumbling a whispered “Hi.”

They fell asleep (or at least he did) not long after his little “Me too.” 

He is excited. He doesn’t think Lucas really understand how excited he is. 

They’ve fallen asleep together before, that night on the dumpster, Jens’s head in Lucas’s lap, Lucas gently brushing his fingertips over Jens’s cheeks and brows and lips and eyes, combing through his hair as their fingers entwined. But he looks forward to holding Lucas, wrapping his arms around him underneath his blankets, being able to hide from the rest of the world in his four walls. He’s thought about how it might go. He’d kiss Lucas, of course, kiss his forehead while he’s falling asleep, push his curls out of his face so he can look at him in the dark, with the street and moonlight streaming through gaps in his curtain. He’d hear Lucas’s little puffs of breath, maybe feel them against his neck or chest. 

Luca tells him in the morning (through a text that Jens doesn’t see until he wakes up several hours after it’s sent) that he’ll have to go to his place in the evening, that Milan woke him up early to take him to Leuven. 

So Jens waits. 

Lotte and Mama leave early, around nine. (Jens is still been asleep; they leave a note.) (Lotte signs it with a little heart.) Jens did some homework. He finishes all the maths, but he leaves some history because he can’t focus on it. He’ll ask Robbe for the answers later. 

He gets a few texts from Lucas throughout the day.  
_milan talks too much_  
_zoe and senne are so cute fuck_  
_milan bought the same shirt in three different colours??? why???_  
And a selfie taken with Milan, who is smiling broadly and excitedly while Lucas’s face remains flat, looking tired and bored. Jens saves it. 

He gets a text in the evening, while he’s playing a video game halfheartedly, that makes his heart jump.

 _im on my way_

He’s almost impatient, replying a quick _:D_ and then going back to the game, his knee bouncing quickly up and down. He loses the game after a few minutes. 

When there’s a knock at the door, he practically jumps out of his seat, opening the door before Lucas has the opportunity to knock again.

“Hi, baby.”

“Hi.” 

He reaches out and pulls Lucas into a kiss, tugging him inside before shutting the door behind him. It’s dim outside, the sky a glowing sort of red, and Jens hasn’t turned on any of the lights in the living room. Lucas grabs Jens’s waist as he kisses him back, smiling softly, and Jens sighs. 

“How are you?” Jens asks when they pull away. They’ve stepped back into the apartment, standing in the living room, making no move to leave or let go of each other. 

“Tired.” His voice is soft, and Jens brushed his fingertips over his freckled cheeks. Lucas’s eyes drift shut slightly.

“We were up pretty late last night.” 

“Mm.”

“Did you sleep on the train?” 

“Like a baby.”

Jens chuckles lightly, leaning down and kissing him gently. When he pulls away, Lucas’s eyes are half-closed, his mouth parted. 

“I fell asleep on Senne’s shoulder,” he says after a quiet second. “When we got off the train he said he let me because I was cute.”

“You are cute.”

“When I sleep, though?”

“Mm-hmm. We’ve fallen asleep on FaceTime enough times for me to know.”

“Yeah?”

“Mm.” He kisses him again. “You’re like Sleeping Beauty but… more beauty.”

Lucas scoffs, tilting his head up and kissing him again, gently biting his lip at Jens winds his fingers through his hair. Jens pulls away before licking his lips and pulling him back in, feeling as Lucas’s mouth opens under his, as Lucas’s grip on his waist tightens, his fingers curling unto the fabric of his t-shirt. 

“I missed you,” Lucas whispers when they pull back for a breath, and Jens kisses him before responding.

“It was only like a day.” 

Lucas sighs heavily. 

“I know.”

Jens laughs, pressing his lips to Lucas’s forehead. He can sense Lucas’s eyes closing, and they stay there. 

\---

“Did you bring art to show me?” Jens asks several minutes later, when Lucas pulls his head away and presses a soft kiss to Jens’s cheek. 

“Mm… Kind of. I didn’t bring a book but I have pictures.” 

“Show me,” Jens says as he takes Lucas’s hand, pulling him down the hall to his room, and Lucas pulls his phone out of the pocket of his hoodie. When they enter Jens’s room, Lucas beams at the wall above his desk (Jens’s face burns a little bit) and he takes off his backpack, tossing it to the ground next to the bed. Jens jumps up onto the bed, crossing his legs as he faces Lucas, and Lucas sits across from him, swiping and tapping the screen of his phone as Jens watches fondly, his eyes soft. Lucas’s curls fall into his face as he focuses on the screen, and Jens reaches out and pushes them, holding them up so he can see Lucas’s face.

“Here.” Lucas holds his phone out and Jens takes it, spinning it around to look at the picture. “I did that one last week.” 

It’s a drawing of Zoë, lightly done in pencil. She’s looking over her shoulder, her hair parted in the middle, with a little hoop earring in. Jens zooms in, smiling softly.

“Woah.” 

“It’s like _Girl With the Pearl Earring_ ,” Lucas says. “That’s what Zoë makes me think of.” 

“Have you shown her?” 

“Not yet.” 

“You should.” Jens looks closer, bringing the phone up and zooming in more. They’re _her_ eyes. Everything, from the way her hair falls to the tops of her shoulders, tucked behind her ear, to the gentle lashes around her eyes. Even the light in her eyes, the light that feels like the little secrets Jens doesn’t know about, is just like her, just like when Jens catches her eye at parties or at school. It’s like Lucas took a picture of her with his eyes, like he captured her spirit and soul in the picture, and put it on paper. “She’d love it.” 

He glances up and Lucas is looking at the ground, his cheeks pink. He’s wincing, a painful smile, and Jens shakes his head at him even though he doesn’t see. He’s always so shy about his art, even pieces that he’s proud of. Even if he spent hours on it, even if he stays up almost overnight to work on it, even if he rambles to Jens about how proud he is of it, as soon as Jens (or anyone else) says one word in praise, Lucas’s face burns up and he looks away, smiling bashfully. 

“Do you have any more?” Jens asks, passing Lucas’s phone back, not wanting to scroll without permission. 

“Uh, yeah, I have…” Lucas scrolls again before handing Jens the phone. “This is what I was doing last night. It’s drying on my desk.” 

Jens takes the phone, looking down as Lucas adds “It’ll probably be drying for the next two weeks.”

It’s colourful, the colour changing from cool to warm tones in blocky, geometric strokes of thick paint. He sees more colour when he looks closer, subtle hints of orange around the green, tiny dashes of blue in the red. There are circles and half-circles around the edges of the canvas, in yellow and white with wisps of pink, and what looks like subtle carvings of faces and hands in the paint.

“Holy shit.”

He looks up at Lucas, who is smiling almost expectantly. 

“This is oils?” Jens asks, looking back at the painting. 

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Woah.” 

He slides the photo over, looking closer, seeing shadows on the painting under the divots made in the paint by Lucas’s palette knife. 

“It’s beautiful.”

“Do you get it?” 

Jens looks up at him, confused. Lucas is wincing slightly, like he hadn’t meant to say it.

“What do you mean?” 

“I…” Lucas looks away, his eyes narrowing as he thinks. “Art is supposed to mean something, you know?” 

Jens nods.

“It’s supposed to say something.” Their eyes lock and Jens’s lips begin to curl into a smile. “Are you listening?”

Jen’s smile grows and he looks back at the painting, feeling Lucas watching him. He zooms back out of the painting, looking at the whole things, seeing the masses of paint smoothed onto the canvas, somehow both delicate and bold, seeing the tiny, thing grooves left in the paint from Lucas’s paintbrushes, noticing another eye he hadn’t seen before, seeing a brighter shade of blue he hadn’t noticed right in the centre of a few circles around the edges.

He looks at the painting.

Noticing.

And noticing.

And noticing.

Until—

“Oh.”

He hears Lucas let out a light laugh. 

“Do you hear it?” 

Jens looks up, a slow smile creeping across his face, and he gazes at Lucas. Lucas is smiling, his eyes sparkling, and Jens can’t stop himself. 

He leans over, across their legs, and kisses him. 

Lucas’s hands fly up, catching Jens’s face, sliding to hold the back of his head as Jens’s tongue slips across his lips, and Lucas lets out a quiet gasp. Jens reaches up, touching the side of Lucas’s face, angling his head and biting his lip before letting go. He moves, stepping off the bed slowly, not moving back too far from Lucas, whose hands are still holding Jens’s head, whose eyes are drifted shut so he looks sleepy, whose lips are parted. Jens turns away, his hand placed on Lucas’s leg, and clicks Lucas’s phone off before tossing it to the ground, aiming it at a blanket that had fallen off his bed. It lands with a small _thump_ and Jens looks back to Lucas. 

Lucas hasn’t looked away from him, his eyes cloudy, and as soon as Jens is facing him, Lucas pulls him in. Jens stumbles, catching himself on the bed and Lucas’s leg as Lucas kisses him harder. As Jens feels Lucas’s tongue slide into his mouth, he gently pushes him, and Lucas moves back, pulling Jens with him, and Jens falls on top of him, landing between his legs and Lucas falls onto his back. 

Lucas wraps his arms around Jens’s neck and Jens holds himself up on his forearms, placed around Lucas’s head, framing him. He can hear Lucas making little sounds, soft breathy pants and faint hums, and he bites his lip gently, hoping to elicit more. 

It works. 

Lucas gasps, their lips separating, and his hands slide down Jens’s neck to his shoulders, holding his tightly for a second before, moving to his back, and Jens feels Lucas gather the fabric in his hands and tug gently. Jens meets his eyes, his own flickering back and forth between Lucas’s, and he pushes himself up, pulling Lucas with him. Jens kisses him again, pressing both his hands to Lucas’s face before moving his hands to Lucas’s sides, pulling the hem of his hoodie up, and Lucas pulls away for him to pull it over his head. 

It gets caught and Jens can hear Lucas’s laughter muffled under the fabric, and he grins, gently moving it so it goes over his head smoothly. When it’s off, Lucas leans in, kissing Jens messily as Jens tosses it away, and Jens can feel his smile against his mouth. 

Lucas pulls the hem of Jens’s shirt and Jens moves back, letting him pull it over his head. 

Lucas’s eyes drop when it’s off, skimming across Jens’s skin, and part of Jens wants to cross his arms over his chest and hide. Another part of Jens wants to lean over and kiss Lucas so he’ll stop looking, but before he can, Lucas is leaning forward, tilting his head, and pressing his lips to Jens’s skin, softly kissing over his shoulder and then his collarbone. Jens’s eyes close and he sighs. He can hear his own heart beating, can hear the heavy pounding in his chest, that Lucas covers with kisses, brushing his lips over the skin before moving up to the side of Jens’s neck. Jens shudders at the feeling of Lucas’s tongue and teeth skim his neck, at the feeling of him mouth around his earring. 

He pushes Lucas onto his back again, placing his arms around his head, shoving his face into Lucas’s, kissing him harshly, biting at his lip, hearing a quiet whimper escape Lucas’s throat. He feels Lucas’s legs wrap around him, lets out a quiet groan as Lucas pushes his hips against Jens’s. Lucas slides his hands to hold Jens’s face, pulling away just far enough that their lips still brush together, breathless. 

“Lu.”

A quiet whine.

“What do you want?”

Lucas’s eyes open, and it takes a second before they focus on Jens, the blue misted over as he pants quietly. 

“You.” 

Their eyes lock again, both intense and soft, before Jens kisses him, licking into his mouth almost lazily. 

“You’ll stop me if it hurts?” Jens asks, his fingers brushing over Lucas’s cheek.

Lucas nods. 

“Or if you’re uncomfortable or change your mind?” 

Lucas kisses him, sucking his lower lip. 

“Promise?” Jens asks when he lets go. 

“Promise,” Lucas responds breathlessly. 

Jens nods, moving down and pressing his lips to Lucas’s chest, trailing kisses across the skin of his chest and belly as Lucas’s hands float aimlessly in the air before landing on the bed and gathering the material of the sheets into loose fists. 

He glances up at Lucas before unbuttoning and unzipping jeans, and Lucas lifts his hips so Jens can slide them down, tugging his boxers down with them before tossing them away. (They land with his hoodie.) Jens presses his hands to his hips, sliding them over his thighs. 

Lucas is beautiful. 

Jens murmurs it to him absentmindedly, and Lucas flushes, smiling the same way he does when Jens praises his art. 

Jens presses a kiss to the top of his foot, to his ankle, his knee, above his knee, a slow kiss to his inner thigh (he hears Lucas’s breath stutter and he runs his hands down the sides of his legs).

He listens to Lucas’s gasps, the way he chokes on his breath as Jens takes him into his mouth. (He tries to pretend that he knows what he’s doing.)

“Jens—” 

Jens lifts himself up, leaning up, and Lucas reaches out, pulling him in by the neck, kissing him messily, sliding his tongue into his mouth, biting his lip, gasps and pants caught in the air between them. 

\---

“Jens,” Lucas gasps. 

“Mm.” 

“I’m ready.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Baby, please.” 

His voice is high and strained, breaking slightly as he moans quietly when Jens takes his fingers from him. 

It’s a little bit before Jens is ready too, his hands too shaky to put the condom on right the first time, and then he holds himself above Lucas, gently pushing his curls out of his face. 

“Okay?” 

“Mm-hmm.” A whimper. 

Jens lets out a quiet moan as he pushes into him, feeling as Lucas’s hands slide up and grab his shoulders, and he stays for a second, his head dropped to Lucas’s neck. He can feel Lucas’s chest rise and fall against his, can feel all his blood rushing through his limbs, can feel every cell in his body fucking _glowing_. He gently rocks his hips and Lucas clutches at his back, his nails scratching his faintly. 

There’s a moment where Jens pulls, tucks his hand under the small of Lucas’s back and draws him in closer, and Lucas lets out a gasp, his hands jumping from Jens’s shoulders to his head, grabbing his hair and grasping, holding on like he’ll fall apart if he lets go. 

It’s not long after that that Jens breaks. 

And Lucas puts him right back together again. 

\--- 

Lucas is still breathing heavily when Jens lifts himself up. Their skin sticks together slightly, and Lucas’s hands fall from his hair, flopping on to the bed. His eyes flutter when he feels Jens get up, but he doesn’t move. 

Jens comes back with a damp towel, and he sits next to Lucas, gently wiping down his stomach and chest before pressing soft kisses to his forehead. Lucas opens his eyes and smiles, reaching up and pulling Jens down by his neck, kissing him, and Jens drops the towel before climbing over Lucas, pulling up a light blanket over them. 

Lucas comes in close, curling his hands against Jens’s chest, and Jens wraps his arms around him, sighing softly. He can smell Lucas’s hair, a smell that’s sweet, and citrusy, and distinctly _him._ (He smells like a G chord, Jens thinks fondly, and he smiles.) 

He didn’t close the curtains. It’s dark out, just dark enough that the streetlights are glowing, the light of them peering around the buildings neighbouring Jens’s apartment building. 

Jens lets his eyes drift shut. 

He can feel Lucas’s breathe on his chest,

There’s something he could say. 

Just a few small words, that Lucas might not even hear. He could say them to the air around them, to the stars and streetlights. 

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t have to.


	24. Tell Me

There’s a pressure on Lucas’s chest when he wakes up, before he even opens his eyes. It’s gentle, right over his heart, and it doesn’t hurt, so he stays there, taking a deep breath, feeling sunlight on his face. It’s bright, pressing through his eyelids in a soft red glow, and he feels warm. 

His hands ball into fists under the blanket on top of him and he raises them slightly as he stretches, arching his back as he yawns. He can feel his sleeves bunch up in his hands, and his legs slide, bare, against the smooth blanket. There’s something, a hood probably, gathered at the nape of his neck, and it’s uncomfortable, but he leaves it.

He hears a quiet breath, a short sigh, next to him, and he smiles as he realises what’s on his chest. 

Lucas slowly pulls the blanket down, reaches a hand out from under it (the air is cold outside), and he places a hand on top of Jens’s.

Jens’s fingers spread as soon as their hands touch, and Lucas turns to look at him. He’s close enough that Lucas could count his eyelashes. He would if his brain wasn’t too foggy from sleep.

His eyes are closed, his lips parted as he exhales soft breaths. Lucas turns onto his side, setting a bent arm under his head, and he catches Jens’s hand as it slides off his chest, letting their fingers twist around each other. 

Lucas expects Jens’s hair to have fallen in his face, but it’s pushed back. (Maybe Lucas pushed it back in his sleep. He could see that happening.) If he didn’t want to keep Jens’s hand pressed to his chest, he would reach out and touch the mole by his eye, trace an invisible line down his cheek, let his fingertips drift over his lips. Draw him. 

He doesn’t unlink their fingers, doesn’t let Jens’s hand fall, so he traces the line with his eyes, gazing at him like his eyes are paintbrushes, like he’s trying to commit every detail to memory, every eyelash and mole, the stubble across his chin. 

“You staring at me?” 

Jens’s voice is soft, scratchy from sleep, but it still makes Lucas startle, and then he giggles quietly, squeezing his hand. 

“Yeah, I think you’re pretty.” 

“I sure hope you do.”

Lucas squeezes his hand again and Jens’s eyes open, soft on Lucas before they close again as he moves in. Their lips press together gently, the position awkward as Jens avoids Lucas’s elbow. When Jens pulls back, he smiles, sitting up and pulling the blanket down before moving down the bed, releasing his hand from Lucas’s and using it to pull at Lucas’s leg as Jens lays with his face against his chest. Lucas’s leg wraps around Jens’s waist and he tangles his hand in Jens’s messy hair, not trying to comb it down, but gently scratching at his scalp as Lucas sighs. 

It’s early in the morning. Or at least he thinks it is. Raindrops (or maybe it’s just condensation) sparkle like stars on the window that Jens forgot to cover with curtains last night, making the walls and ceiling glisten. The room is washed in a yellow glow, and Lucas thinks this is how mornings are supposed to be. 

Quiet. Calm. Peaceful. Slow. 

He hears Jens take a little breath before he speaks. 

“I like how you talk about art.”

A small smile crawls across Lucas’s face and he closes his eyes. Jens’s hand runs up and down Lucas’s bare leg under the blanket, his fingertips trailing over the skin, leaving sparks in their wake. 

“How do I talk about art?”

“Mm…” Jens sighs, shifting his head against Lucas. “Like you invented it.”

Lucas laughs. 

“I definitely didn’t.” 

“Wait, let me…” Jens shakes his head, laughing. “How do I say this…”

“Take your time.” 

Jens is quiet while he thinks, and there’s a chance Lucas might fall asleep. He’s still smiling absently to himself. He can feel his own heartbeat, and it’s slow. It doesn’t speed up when he notices it. 

“You talk about it like just talking about it is art.”

Lucas hums, pressing a kiss to the top of Jens’s head. 

“I think I just really like it.” 

“What do you like about it?” Jens whispers. 

“Hm… It’s relative.”

“Tell me.”

“Like… There’s no set… ideal, I guess, for what it is. It’s whatever the artist makes it. It’s so… diverse? There are so many different forms, like, photography and painting and drawing, and sculpture. And then even in just sculpture alone there are so many forms, there are clay and carving and relief and casting and contemporary. And then there’s performing arts, and culinary arts.” 

He sighs, feeling Jens gently scratch his nails across his leg. 

“There’s no good or bad.” He shifts his head, combing his fingers through the hair on the back of Jens’s head. “Actually that’s the one thing I don’t like about it. Or rather, about the people who do it.” 

“Good and bad?” 

“Yeah. People who say stuff like ‘I’m not good at art,’ or ‘this looks bad’ about their art. I don’t think there’s such thing as good or bad art.” 

“Keep going.” 

Lucas giggles to himself, wondering if Jens is going to fall asleep listening to him.

“I think that if someone is passionate about it, any form of art, it’s art, and it’s beautiful. Like if they draw something for the first time, but they’re excited about it and they enjoyed doing it, it’s good. It’s only going to be ‘bad’”— he does finger quotes even though Jens isn’t looking— “if they don’t want to do it. If they don’t believe in it. If they’re passionate about it, it’s good, whatever that means, no matter what style they do or skill level they’re at.”

Jens’s hand slides up to his hip and slips under Lucas’s hoodie.

Which is actually Jens’s hoodie.

They both woke up last night, cold, and giggled at each other in the dark as they scrambled to find their clothes. Lucas ended up finding Jens’s hoodie and grabbed it before Jens could find it. He put it on backwards at first, and, trying to turn it around, got tangled in it. Jens had laughed at him, trying to help him, but it didn’t work very well, as they couldn’t see. When they finally managed to get it on right, and Jens got another hoodie on, they were both shivering, laughing quietly as their hands shook, fumbling and searching the foot of the bed to find the blankets. They ended up falling asleep with their arms and legs tangled like knots. (Lucas can’t remember a night he slept so well.) 

Jens pulls at the small of his back and Lucas moves closer, wrapping his arm around Jens’s neck, his fingers still in his hair. 

“Of course, it might be a little harder to enjoy someone’s first time making art if they’re playing like the violin or flute or something.” He doesn’t hear it, but Jens’s shoulders shake against his as he laughs. “But we can still appreciate it. They’re still exposing a little piece of their soul for the world to see. Hear. And that’s beautiful.”

“It is. I’ve never thought about it like that,” Jens says, his voice muffled by Lucas’s arm. 

“Hm.” 

Jens pulls away and Lucas lifts his arm for him, but he doesn’t move much, just tilts his head up in Lucas’s direction. Lucas smiles as he leans down, pressing their lips together. Jens’s hand slips across Lucas’s skin as Lucas licks gently into his mouth. His hand is cold, but Lucas doesn’t mind. He shivers when Jens bites his lip, squeezing his fist in his hair, and Jens gasps as he pulls away. When he does, his face falls from Lucas’s and Lucas gently kisses his forehead before glancing down and seeing Jens’s eyes fall shut. 

“That’s why I like watching you dance,” he murmurs without thinking.

“Why?” 

Lucas leans back, analysing his face. He brushes his fingertips over his cheekbone, admiring him silently. 

“You look so peaceful. But focused. You’re making art.”

Jens’s eyes open and lock with Lucas’s. 

Lucas can see the sunlight in them, looking like shattered glass, flicking back and forth between Lucas’s before moving down his face, his gaze intense, like he’s trying to memorise his freckles. 

He doesn’t know how much time passes before he realises that he’s holding his breath and he inhales, gasping lightly. 

“You’re art,” Jens says softly.

Lucas scoffs lightly, rolling his eyes at him before leaning down and kissing him, his smile slowly fading as the kiss intensifies. Lucas pushes himself up, his hand holding Jens’s jaw, and Jens slides his hand down to grasp Lucas’s leg, pulling Lucas on top of him. 

He feels some type of way when he kisses Jens. When Jens holds his legs and waist and slides his hands around him to hold his neck or face. When Jens bites his lip and swallows his gasps and moans, when Jens lets out _that_ little noise when Lucas pulls his hair that Lucas loves so much. When Jens brushes his fingertips over the back of Lucas’s hand while he talks or when his hand absentmindedly squeezes his thigh. When Jens cracks a shitty joke and grins at Lucas, waiting for a laugh (and of course he always gets one), or when Lucas teases him and Jens responds with a sassy remark and a quick kiss. When he gets a text from Jens, no matter what is said in it.

A feeling that he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. 

Loving Jens is making art.


	25. Grownups Need Support Too

“I think I can finish it by myself,” Lotte says, pulling the paper closer and looking at it, her brow pulled in with focus. 

“I think so too,” Jens says. He leans back against the base of his bed, stretching his legs out on the floor in front of himself. Lotte hums in response, still looking intensely at the paper, and he cocks his head at her. He smiles softly at her, her little pout, the wheels turning in her head. 

“Yeah,” she says, abruptly, looking up at him. She catches his smiles and rolls her eyes (which makes his smile grow), grabbing her pencil from the floor next to him, and pushes herself up. 

“I don’t get a kiss?” he says, feigning hurt and pouting, sticking his lower lip out as she makes her way to the door, and she groans loudly, exaggerating it by throwing her head back, before turning back around, leaning over him and pressing a chaste kiss to his forehead. He closes his eyes, smiling cheesily, knowing she’ll laugh, which she does, snorting as she leaves the room, shutting the door quietly behind herself. 

Jens drops his head to the bed, sighing. They’ve been working on her homework for nearly two hours, and Jens doesn’t know why but he feels more tired than she seems. He stays there, resting, closing his eyes, his hands resting in his lap, curled around each other like a child’s. His mind wanders. From unfinished homework he has yet to complete (he’ll find the answers on Google) (or ask the guys, though he doubts any of them have completed it, either), to Lotte’s unfinished homework (which he has faith she’ll be able to complete, and if she gets stuck, he knows she’ll come to him for help), to what’s for dinner, to wondering if his mother will be back home in time to make dinner or if Jens will have to. 

She’s been staying out later. 

Jens doesn’t know if she’s working late, taking up shifts from others, or if she’s just walking, wasting time. He can almost imagine her, wandering sidewalks in the dark, her hands stuffed into the pockets of her coat, the way her legs cross in front of each other with every step like she’s walking a tightrope. It worries him. Though many of his worries are unnecessary, irrational (What if she trips and stumbles into the road and gets hit? What if she gets lost? It makes him feel sick.), and though he knows they’re unnecessary, irrational, he can’t help it. Can’t help but think of the worst-case scenario. 

She’s distant. 

She still laughs with Lotte, still teases Jens, but her smile seems to fade faster. 

Jens wonders if it has to do with her father, if maybe the emotional effect of kicking him out, of cursing at him and scolding him, was enough to do this to her. To make her depressed. 

He lifts his head, glancing around the room, suddenly disoriented, and reaches for his phone once he’s grounded. He sends a message to his mom, _When do you think you’ll be home tonight?_ , without expecting a response. 

He feels hopeless, lately, when it comes to his mom. Not hopeless in a sense of he doesn’t feel he can do anything, or in a sense of he isn’t going to try to do anything, but hopeless in a sense of feeling for her. When he looks at her face when she thinks he isn’t looking, when she stares blankly at a sink full of dishes or a blank wall or the food on her plate, when he imagines her walking by herself in the night, or sitting in a room by herself, his heart fills with the same dread she holds in her eyes. 

When he leaves the chat with his mother, after waiting a few seconds to see if she reads it, he sees his chat with Lucas, and he smiles. The last message is Lucas calling him a nerd. He opens the chat, his fingers hovering over the keys for a few seconds, contemplating. Lucas could be drawing. Or doing schoolwork. Or something else that he doesn’t want to be distracted from. 

Jens drops his phone, letting his hands hang between his legs as his knees come up, and he drops his head on the bed again, huffing. He can hear Lotte’s music from her room, just loud enough to hear, just quiet enough to not be able to tell what song is playing. It feels too quiet in his room, in his head. Too quiet, too lonely. He lifts his phone again and calls Lucas. 

Jens isn’t expecting him to pick up, is expecting him to be busy, but it only takes a few seconds before Lucas’s soft “Hey, baby,” reaches his ear. 

“Hi.”

“You okay?” 

Jens closes his eyes, letting his head fall to the bed once again. 

“Yeah, why?” 

“Mm…” There’s a pause. “You usually text before you call me.”

“Sorry,” Jens says softly. 

“Don’t apologize. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” Jens replies, but it sounds fake even to him. 

“Jens, talk to me.” 

Jens takes a deep breath. 

“It’s… I don’t know. I feel just…” 

“One of those days?” 

He bites his lip, not knowing what to say. 

“Kind of, I guess.”

“Where are you?” Lucas asks. 

“Home. On my floor. I was helping Lotte with homework but she’s in her room now.” 

“How’s Lotte?”

“She’s good,” Jens says, smiling softly as he realises what Lucas is doing. Checking on him. His heart feels a little warmer. 

“And your mom?” 

His smile fades and he presses his lips together, opening his eyes and gazing at the ceiling. His mouth opens, but no words come out. 

“Jens?” 

“I…” 

Lucas waits. 

“I think she’s depressed,” Jens says finally, his voice so quiet it’s almost just a breath. 

Lucas is quiet. 

But Jens doesn’t feel lonely anymore. He feels like he would if Lucas was sitting right next to him, if he had his leg tossed over Jens’s, if their fingers were laced between them. 

“Have you talked to her?” Lucas asks after a minute. 

“I don’t know what to say.” 

They’re both almost whispering.

“Just… Ask how she is.” 

“I know how she is.” His voice catches and his eyes burn. “She’s fucking miserable and I just— I don’t know why or how I can help and it hurts, I just… I just want her to be okay.”

“I know, baby, but… You have to talk to her for her to get better.”

A tear rolls down Jens’s cheek and he bites his lip again, trying not to let a sob break through. 

“I think,” Lucas continues, “you should talk to her about maybe getting help. Maybe going to a counsellor or therapist will help.” 

“Yeah,” Jens says. He swallows, reaching up and wiping his face. “I might try to talk to her tonight about it. Offer to go with her.” 

“I think it’s a good idea. Grownups need support, too.”

Jens laughs softly, swiping a finger under his eye. 

“I know.” 

They sit in silence. Jens feels tired, closing his eyes again and letting a leg drop, considering climbing onto his bed, though he’d probably fall asleep if he does. He feels lighter. He hadn’t thought of it in that way, but somehow the knowledge of Mama’s depression feels like a secret. It isn’t something he’s going to just bring up to Lotte, or any of the guys, or Jana, not that they’ve even been talking much as of late. He feels better now that the weight of it isn’t just resting on him. 

The sun is starting to set behind clouds outside, and the lighting of Jens’s room turns blue, a dim, warm blue, shadows cast across the floor and walls. 

“Oh, I had to tell you something,” Lucas says, his voice still soft. 

“Mhmm?”

“Milan was going to invite you and the guys over to chill this weekend.” 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. What do you think?” 

“Sounds fun.” 

“You don’t think it’ll be awkward?” 

“Mm… Only if we make it awkward.” 

Lucas chuckles. 

“Okay, we’ll pretend to be bros.” 

“I’ll repress the urge to kiss you until we’re alone.” 

“...That’s kinda hot.”

A burst of laughter jumps out of Jens and he claps his hand over his mouth. 

“Why are you like this?” 

“Am I wrong?” Lucas says, and Jens can hear his smile. 

“I mean…” 

“Mhmm.”

\--- 

“Jens?” 

Jens lifts his head from the dining table, uncrossing his arms, his eyes bleary. It’s dark, the room illuminated by a dim light. 

“Where’s Lotte?” 

His mom walks into the room, placing her coat on the back of a chair. She looks tired. 

He hasn’t looked her directly in the face in days. The circles under her eyes are darker, the wrinkles on her forehead deeper. Her lips are still stained from the lipstick she wears to work every day. 

“Bed.” 

“Why aren’t you in bed?” 

“I just… wanted to talk to you.” 

She stares at him, confused, and slowly pulls the chair out from under the table, turning it so she can sit. 

“Okay.” When she’s sitting, she rests her hands on the table, her fingers loosely laced. “Is everything okay?”

Jens shifts in his seat, feeling nervous for no reason. His hands shake slightly. He doesn’t want to talk about this, doesn’t want to have this conversation. 

“Jens, I—”

“Are you okay?” he interrupts. 

She stares at him with tired, taken-aback eyes. 

“I’m okay.” 

The words are only half in the air when he responds, “No, you’re not.” 

It’s quiet again. So quiet he can hear drops of water leaking from the tap into the metal sink, he can hear cars driving in the outside world. 

“I’m okay.” 

“Mama, please, just—” Jens drops his gaze, looking down at the worn wood of the table. He takes a sharp breath, willing himself not to cry. “I know you’re not okay.” 

“I’m o—” 

“Mama, stop, _stop_.” He presses a hand to the table, flattened down and frustrated. “I know.” He looks back at her, his glassy eyes locking on hers. “I know.” 

They stare at each other again, and he can see her deflate, can see her posture give out, her shoulders drop. 

“I’m tired, Jens.” 

“Of what?” he asks softly. 

“Everything.” 

His heart breaks. She looks so tired. So sad. 

“We can get you help,” he says gently after a moment. “A counsellor, or a therapist. Someone who can help you feel better.” 

A small smile spreads across her face and she sighs, wiping an eye quickly. 

“This is the kind of conversation I’m supposed to be having with you, not the other way around.” 

Jens smiles back, the air lightening around them slightly. 

“Gotta do what you gotta do.”

She lets out a quiet laugh and he reaches across the table, taking her hand. 

“I can go with you,” he tells her softly. She smiles again, resting her other hand on top of his. 

“Thank you, honey. But I think I’ll be a big girl and go by myself.” 

“Grownups need support too.”

She laughs. 

“Yes, we do. I’ve got support, don’t I?” 

Jens scoots his chair closer to her and leans close, pressing a kiss to her temple. 

“I love you, Mama.”

“I know, Jens. I love you too.” 

They stay there for a while, holding each other’s hands, and Jens wraps an arm around her, pulling her close. He presses another kiss to her temple, hears her sigh. Sees her face relax, sees her smile when she doesn’t know he’s looking. At some point, he lays his head on her shoulder and closes his eyes. He hears a quiet, “Thank you,” just under her breath.


	26. Lots of Reds

Lucas is nervous, if he’s honest.

Nervous about accidentally looking at Jens too long, about giving Milan or Robbe or Moyo or Aaron a _hint_ at what they have, nervous about sending him too soft a glance, too familiar a smile. He’s had to smother his nerves, stop his knee from bouncing up and down, his fingers from twisting his ring (though this happens without his noticing). 

Milan is excited, seemingly too excited to notice Lucas’s nervous fidgeting. He puts out a few videos games, a few movies, a few bowls of chips, a plate of fruit, a few beer bottles, a few soda cans, and all the while Lucas twists his ring a few times, tugs his curls a few times. When Milan finally looks at him across the living room, as Milan is tossing cushions onto the sofa and Lucas is laying on the other sofa, his legs kicked over the armrest, kicking the air. Milan grins, and Lucas’s fingers stop fiddling with his ring. 

“Excited?” he asks, watching Milan step back and analyze the sofa before going back in and moving all of the pillows up against the back. 

“I’m so excited.” Milan’s voice is shimmering with eagerness. “It’s not often that all of them come over, especially because Robbe moved out.”

“Mm.” 

A few minutes later, Milan is in the kitchen, doing something. Lucas doesn’t know. Maybe he’s getting cookies out of the oven, maybe he’s setting up a bunch of flowers on the table. Lucas is a little distracted. He tugs at the sleeves of his sweater, staring up at the ceiling, still kicking his legs. There’s a storm of excitement and nervousness and anxiety. He’s excited to see Jens again but unsure of how he’ll act. How he’ll greet Jens. A handshake? A nod? A quick muttered “Hey”? A smile? What kind of smile? Lucas’s fingers drum over his stomach as his eyes dart across the ceiling, avoiding the light bulb. 

His eyes only move away from the ceiling, going to the door as his head turns on the sofa when he hears voices outside. His hands and legs still and his eyes widen, glancing to the kitchen door, waiting for Milan to appear, but he doesn’t, and there’s a knock, startling Lucas. 

“Luc, can you get it?” Milan’s voice calls from the kitchen, and Lucas huffs, pushing himself so he rolls off the sofa, landing on the floor and standing. He pushes his hair back but doesn’t bother trying to straighten or fix his sweater. 

He opens the door to Moyo, who grins. 

“Luc! What’s up?” He holds his hand out and Lucas slaps their palms together, smiling. 

“Not much, you?” 

“Hanging with my bros.” 

Lucas laughs and steps to the side, pulling the door open for them to enter. Aaron does the same as Moyo, hits their palms together and lets their fingers hook momentarily before stepping past him to the living room. Robbe’s next, greeting him with a “How are you?” and Lucas responds “I’m doing okay, you?” and Robbe grins before saying, “Great.” He does look great, his eyes shining under his growing curls, one hand behind him, laced with Sander’s. 

When Sander’s passed him, after a smile and a “Hey,” and a handshake, Jens appears, and Lucas suppresses his smile into a casual greeting smile. 

“Hi,” he says, softer than intended, and Jens’s smile grows. He holds his hand out and Lucas shakes it, the same as he did with the others, ignoring the urge to pull him in close. Jens squeezes his hand gently before letting go and stepping out of the way so Lucas can shut the door. Lucas catches Jens shoot him a wink as he follows the guys into the living room. 

Jens sits next to Moyo, in the corner of the sofa Milan was trying to decorate earlier, farthest from when Lucas sits after he enters the room. Sander is on Moyo’s other side, Robbe on the floor between his legs as Sander’s fingers comb through his hair gently. Aaron sits on the floor under Jens, who has his legs pulled up in front of himself like he’s trying to look small. Lucas wonders if he is. If he always is. 

“Hello, my darlings,” Milan says as he enters, tearing Lucas’s gaze away from Jens. He’s carrying another bowl, a smaller one filled past the brim with grapes. He sets it on the coffee table before going around, pressing kisses to everyone’s cheek, starting with Jens, and Lucas feels the quick sharpness of jealousy that _he_ can do it, but Lucas can’t. 

He considers texting Jens. But he wouldn’t know what, or if the notification would come up if Moyo would see it sitting next to him. So he doesn’t.

The boys chat with Milan for a bit, but Lucas is only half listening. 

They play some video games, but Lucas is only half paying attention. 

His eyes keep reverting to Jens sitting in the corner. From the angle he can see his profile, occasionally constricted by Moyo’s hair as Moyo leans forward, focusing on the game. Jens is smiling, the corner of his eyes crinkled up as he laughs at Moyo losing the game to Aaron. There are loud “No-o-o!’’ shouts, and Lucas laughs along with the others, looking to the television before looking back at Jens.

He draws him in his head, gentle, curved and harsh, sharp lines forming his profile, and he almost smiles, knowing exactly what brushes he would use to paint him. (He hasn’t painted him yet, but the collection of drawings hidden in the dictionary on his desk continues to grow. He’s been drawing constellations around him lots lately; either that or music notes and flowers.) He’d use the small, angled brush to paint his skin, the old frayed brush to blend the shading of his cheekbone and neck. The tiny, thin brush would work for his lashes and brow. The thick, tapered brush would work for his hair, but he’d go over it again with the thin one to do stray strands. 

Lucas forces himself to look away, watching the game on the television for a little bit, listening to the boys shout and laugh, until he’s bored, and he looks down at his phone. He scrolls aimlessly, pausing to read memes and watch videos, and he doesn’t notice Jens glancing at the guys before looking at him, doesn’t notice Jens smile softly. 

“Lucas!” Milan says after a while, when the room is quiet, strained with Moyo’s and Aaron’s focus, and Lucas looks up, startled. “You should show Sander some art.” Sander, Robbe, and Jens all look at him, and Lucas will his face not to burn up pink. 

“Oh, yeah!” Sander exclaims, looking at Lucas, his eyes wide. 

“I can get some paintings from my room,” Lucas says, slowly lowering his legs off the sofa, and Sander nods. As Lucas walks across the room, toward the door, he’s acutely aware of Jens’s eyes following him. 

When he comes back, two canvases and two papers in hand, Sander sits up, shifting in his seat, and Robbe moves back on the floor, away from Sander’s legs so Lucas can place the canvases in his lap. They’re both landscapes done in oils, photos he found online, and Sander analyzes them both carefully, quietly. Lucas stands to the side awkwardly, and he glances up to see Jens looking at him, not the art. They both suppress smiles, and Lucas is longing to reach out and touch him. 

Lucas stoops and picks up a beer bottle from the table after a few seconds, when Sander finally speaks. 

“How the hell do you keep the paint layers so thin?” He looks up at him and Lucas cracks the bottle open. “When I use oils it ends up with globs of paint, and it takes, like, months to dry.”

Lucas laughs, taking a sip. 

“I have no clue, honestly, I just paint.” 

Sander shakes his head, looking bewildered, and looks back to the paintings. 

“I love this post here,” he says after a second, pointing to a fence post covered in snow. Lucas smiles, That’s his favourite part of the painting, the snow on top of it, the shadow underneath it. Blending the colours was fun, if a little tedious, making sure the perfect shade of greypurpleblue, making sure not to go over the line of the shadow too many times so it didn’t blend with the white of the snow. 

Sander carefully places the paintings on the coffee table in front of him before he looks at the drawings Lucas brought. One is the portrait of Zoë, the other a portrait of a woman he found online, her tongue sticking out, her freckles standing out against her skin, box braids falling over her shoulders. 

“Holy shit,” Sander says, lifting the latter to look closer. “Her braids!” 

“I’m proud of that one, it took a while.” 

“You should be.” Sander holds it out to the side and Robbe cranes his neck, cooing as he scans the paper. 

“Is that Zoë?” Robbe says, looking past it to the drawing still sitting on Sander’s lap, and Sander lifts it. 

“Yeah,” Lucas says, lowering the bottle after taking another sip. “She makes me think of Girl With a Pearl Earring, so…” 

“Jens, look,” Sander says, holding it up so Jens can see past Moyo, who is staring intently at the screen. Jens lifts his head, looking up from his phone in his lap and just barely glances at Lucas before looking at the drawing. 

“Oh, shit,” he says, and Lucas just manages to suppress a laugh. “That’s incredible.” He looks to Lucas, raising his brows in earnest, and Lucas cheeks heat. 

“Thank you,” he says, looking to the ground. 

Sander and Lucas continue talking about art, even when Lucas sits on the other sofa, drawing his legs up in front of himself and leaning against the armrest, holding the bottle between his torso and his legs. Robbe moves back in front of Sander and within seconds, Sander’s fingers are back in his hair, combing through the strands as he tells Lucas about the classes he takes, about what projects he still has to complete. 

Lucas listens intently, nodding and sipping his beer, absentmindedly rubbing the glass of the bottle, the same way he rubs the fabric of his pants or his sleeves when trying to pay attention in class, the same way he does when listening to Jens talk about ballet. 

While focusing on Sander, he doesn’t see Jens peering at him over Moyo’s shoulder. 

\---

When the bottle in Lucas’s lap is empty, he doesn’t realise until he goes to take another sip and nothing comes out. He lowers it, looking to the guys, who are almost all watching Robbe compete with Aaron (who won the last round, much to Moyo’s dismay), and sees that their bottles seem to be empty too. He stands, tossing his phone to the sofa. 

“I’m gonna get another beer, do you guys want anything?” 

“Can I get a beer too?” Moyo asks, looking at him, and Lucas nods. 

“Robbe? Sander?” 

Robbe doesn’t look away from the screen, his fingers moving over the controller quickly, but says “Can you get me one too?” 

“Yeah. Sander?” 

“No, thanks.” 

“Aaron?” 

It takes a second for him to respond, his eyes wide, staring intensely at the screen. 

“Uh… Yes, please.”

Lucas laughs lightly and looks at Jens, who is already looking at him, and jerks his chin up. Jens shakes his head. 

“No, thank you.” 

Lucas nods and heads into the kitchen, carrying his empty bottle. 

He tosses it into a plastic bin under a counter, wincing as it clatters loudly against other containers, bottles and plastic boxes. The bin was his and Zoë’s idea. Senne had gone out and gotten it the same day, and Milan didn’t notice it until after he’d gone out and gotten another one. Lucas stole this one, put it beside his desk, where it sits almost full of discarded paper. 

He gets more beer from the fridge, and as he’s placing the third bottle on the counter, about to reach back in to grab an extra for Milan, the kitchen door opens and he glances over the fridge door to see Jens, turning and closing the door quietly with both hands. 

“Hey,” Lucas says casually, trying not to grin.

Jens turns and steps toward him, grabbing the bottle out his hand and placing on the counter before tossing ht fridge door shut and placing a hand of Lucas’s hip, pushing him so his back presses against the counter. 

“Hey,” he murmurs before pressing his mouth to Lucas’s. Lucas gasps, his hands flying up to hold Jens’s neck, and Jens pulls him in, his fingers tightening on his hip as his other hand grips his shoulder. Lucas lets out a quiet hum when Jens’s tongue sweeps across his lip. 

“Thought you were gonna repress the urge,” he says quietly when they pull away for a breath. 

“Can’t,” Jens replies, sliding his hands up to Lucas’s neck, pulling him in and biting down on his lip. Lucas’s heart glows, glad to know that Jens was struggling as much as him. Part of him wants to slip his hands under Jens’s shirt (or pants), but another part of him half expects the door to the kitchen to swing open. 

“You don’t think this is a little dangerous?” he whispers when Jens pulls away. Lucas tilts his head and presses his lips to Jens’s jaw, gently, slowly, kissing down his neck, and Jens moans, low in his throat. Lucas smiles, biting his skin softly, and kisses to the neckline of his sweatshirt, a red one with an abstract design on the front. (Lucas loves it. If he has the opportunity next time he’s at Jens’s, he’ll steal it.) He opens his mouth, licking a stripe up Jens’s neck, and then pushes him back. Jens steps away, opening his eyes and looking at the ceiling, smiling resignedly. 

“Can’t be too long, they’ll get suspicious,” Lucas tells him, his voice still lowered just in case. He opens the fridge again, feeling Jens watch him, and grabs two more beers, handing one to Jens and turning to pick up the others from the counter. 

He pecks Jens’s lips lightly before stepping past him to leave, and Jens follows, huffing dramatically.

“You didn’t say if you wanted one or not, so…” he says when he hands a beer to Milan, who smiles gratefully and takes it. Lucas hands Milan Aaron’s beer as well, and Milan places it on the floor next to him. 

When Lucas is sitting on the sofa again, beer opened and in his lap, a leg hanging over the armrest, his phone buzzes. He has to reach behind himself to get it, having forgotten to pick it up from the sofa before dropping himself onto it. 

It’s a text from Jens, and Lucas looks up at him, suppressing a smile. Jens shoots him a glare, weakened by a soft smile, before looking at the television, laughing and smacking Aaron’s head as he messes up.

_why would you do this to me_

Lucas balances the bottle in his lap carefully before responding. 

_:)_

It’s a few seconds before Jens looks at his phone, still laughing as Aaron curses at Robbe. When he does, Lucas sees him roll his eyes, smiling, and almost laughs out loud. 

_fuck you_

Lucas takes a swig from the bottle, grinning. 

_maybe later_

He looks up at the television as he sends it, and pretends not to hear Jens clear his throat, a recovery from choking on his beer. 

He only looks over, faux concern across his face, when Sander says “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I’m good, I just— breathed it.” 

“Been there,” Milan says, shaking his head in sadness as he looks away from Jens back to the screen, and Lucas snorts. 

They don’t text for the rest of the afternoon. 

But, of course, there are lots of stolen glances, longing gazes. 

\---

“So,” Milan says, shutting the front door. Lucas looks up from his phone, up from a _ill call you tonight_ text from Jens, to which he responds _counting down the seconds_. 

“So,” he repeats as Milan enters the room. Milan leans against the door frame, and Lucas feels like he’s his father, about to have a Talk with him. 

“You like the guys?” 

Lucas lets his phone fall to his chest. He’s laying on his back on the sofa, his legs over the armrest, similar to how he was before they arrived. 

“Yeah, they’re cool. Sander is really nice to talk to.” 

“I thought you’d like to talk to him,” Milan says, smiling. “So what about Jens?” 

Immediately, Lucas heats up. He can feel his face flush with anxiety, feels his shoulders suddenly feel too light. 

“What about Jens?” He tries not to stutter. He also tries not to fidget, keeping his hands still on his phone, though he wonders if the complete statuesque stillness could also be suspicious. 

“I saw you stealing a few glances at him…” Milan tilts his head and narrows his eyes. 

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck._

“I don’t…” Lucas can practically feel _red_ radiating off his face, unsure of what to say, what to do. 

“Do you like him?” 

“Milan—” Lucas sits up, setting his phone to the side, but he’s interrupted by a squeal. 

“Oh my _god_! You do!”

“Mi—” 

“Oh, Luc, I’m sorry,” Milan interrupts again, suddenly looking sad. “I’ve only known him to date girls.”

Lucas stares.

“But,” Milan continues, “He had been known to cuff his pants so maybe there’s hope.” 

He tries desperately not to laugh. 

“Okay,” Milan says, clapping his hands together and crossing the room to sit on the floor in front of Lucas. “Tell me.” 

“Tell you...what?” His heart is pounding. 

“Tell me why you like him. I know you’ve only met him like twice but go on.”

“I— I don’t know,” he says, shifting so he’s facing Milan, crossing his legs on the sofa in front of him. “He’s pretty.” 

And sweet.  
And nice, and kind, and funny, and supportive, and encouraging, and considerate, and gentle, and careful, and everything Lucas could hope for. And more. 

“He seems nice,” he adds.

Milan’s face breaks up into a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners, his nose scrunching. 

“Do you think you might have a crush on him?” he asks, almost signing it.

“I don’t know, maybe.” 

Milan seems unreasonably excited about the prospect of Lucas having a crush on Jens, but Lucas won’t complain. He feels giddy with it, with being able to talk about Jens (even if he can only talk about the interactions they’ve had in the flat) (and not even all of them), with having someone that’s this supportive and excited about it. It feels like this is what he should have had, all though middle and high school, this experience of sitting with someone else, and just talking, openly, freely. 

He never told anyone (except Noah, right before Lucas moved) about his crush on Kes. It was a secret, a burden, a stone to carry in his heart until it eroded away. So he tells Milan. He tells Milan everything. About Kes, about how his crush developed in middle school, how he fell for him hard, but hid it away, hoping, praying even, that it would just disappear. About the whole situation with Isa, about how badly he felt. He tells him about how he’s hardly spoken with Kes, with Isa, with Jayden, as of late, even though the whole mess from that year was behind them, even though Kes and Isa, as far as Lucas knows, are friends again. He tells him about how he’s scared of it, of losing contact with his friends, but somehow he’s at peace with it at the same time. 

And Milan listens. 

This goes on for a few hours. 

Zoë comes home in the evening, finds them sitting on the sofa together, still talking. She goes to the kitchen and comes back with glasses and a bottle of wine. 

If he could draw this moment, he would. He watches the two of them, Milan talking and Zoë sipping her wine, Zoë talking and Milan sipping his wine, them both looking at Lucas as he talk, the way they look at each other when they laugh, the way they hold their glasses out as they do, careful not to spill it on the sofa or the rug. Memorising it all. 

He would draw the whole day if he could. It’s been a good day. Sneaking looks at Jens (not so subtly, apparently), exchanging secret smiles, laughing at how the guys interact. 

He could paint it later. Something abstract. The idea of this day. Something with lots of reds.


	27. My Dancer

The door swings open, pushed by a dancer’s hand, a dancer that Jens doesn’t look at, doesn’t acknowledge except a nod and a quick “Thank you,” as Lena squeezes past them and wraps her arm around his waist, grinning. He grins back at her giddily. His heart is still beating quickly, thudding in his chest like is pounding on a door to get out, his hands still shaking, his lungs still out of breath. He’s exhausted, _fucking_ exhausted, from leaping and lifting girls and spinning and stretching, but he’s also exhilarated.

He’s vaguely aware of Rosa speaking, hearing the sound of her voice, hearing Damien’s voice respond. He doesn’t register their words but hears their tones, both of their voices higher than usual, excited. Happy. Jens’s smile grows, his arm tightening around Lena.

A rush of cold air washes over his legs as they step outside. He didn’t change out of his tights and leotard, just pulled on a hoodie and his jacket (and put in an earring) before meeting the girls in the lobby, followed by Damien, all of them beaming, buzzing with excitement. Jens is still buzzing, can feel them buzzing with it too, excitement and pride. A little satisfaction.

Jens pulls Lena in closer in the cold, looking up at the already-darkening sky, and shivers. His eye catches as he turns to look at Damien, who is saying “Jens, I’m still…” before drifting off with a blissful smile, and Rosa knocks her head against his arm (it would have been his shoulder if he was slightly shorter or she slightly taller), smiling, and Jens gives him a _me too_ look before letting go of Lena, feeling his side become suddenly cold, and going across the sidewalk, stepping between chatting dancers, to get to Lucas, who is leaning against a light post. Jens is aware of his friends following, but his mind is only on the boy in front of him, suddenly forgetting everything that happened in dance. 

“Hey, baby,” he says as he approaches him, and Lucas looks up from his phone, the white light from his phone lighting up his face as the gold ray from the streetlamp rests on him like a spotlight. 

“Hey!” Lucas clicks the phone off and slips it into the pocket of his hoodie, a pink one covered in deliberate paint splatters. He lifts his chin, asking for a kiss, and Jens happily obliges, pressing a hand to his cheek and his mouth to Lucas’s. His cheek is warm, Jens’s fingertips tinged with coldness, and he smiles against Lucas’s mouth as he remembers what he has to tell him. 

He pulls away and Lucas looks past him, over his shoulder. 

“Hi,” Lucas says chipperly, tucking his hands into his pockets and stepping closer to Jens. 

“Did you tell him yet?” Lena’s voice says from behind him, and Jens turns sharply. She standing next to Damien, who has an arm around Lena. 

“Not yet,” he says, shooting her a _shut up_ look. She raises her hands, surrendering. 

“Tell me what?”

Jens turns to look at him again, blanking on how exactly to tell him. He smiles, uncontrollably, and furrows his brows. 

“Are you breaking up with me?” Lucas asks, leaning forward and breaking his voice purposely, pretending to cry. 

Jens almost gets his “ _No!_ ” out before Lena says “Would I be this excited if he was breaking up with you?”

“I mean, unless you’re planning to make a move on him.” 

“Oh, honey…” She takes an exaggerated look around before leaning forward and saying loudly, “I’m a lesbian.”

Lucas lets out a short laugh before looking at Damien with raised eyebrows. 

“Damien?” 

“Even if I was gay, Jens would not be the first on my list.”

Lucas laughs loudly, looking at Jens as Jens turns to look at Damien, his brows drawn together and his jaw dropped in an offended expression. 

“That’s just rude so I’m going to ignore the fact that you had the nerve to say that in front of me.”

“You’re the first on my list, baby, don’t worry,” Lucas says, leaning in and kissing his cheek. 

“Yeah, I better be.” Jens keeps his eyes on Damien, maintaining his expression.

“Damien, you’re number two.” Lucas makes a clicking sound with his mouth and Jens knows he winked at him.

Damien raises his fist in victory and Rosa giggles next to him, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“What did you have to tell me?” Lucas asks Jens, and Jens’s stomach flips as he turns to face him again.

“So…” He steps closer to Lucas, feeling Lena’s and Rosa’s and Damien’s eyes on them. Lucas’s arms come up to rest on Jens’s shoulders and Lucas tilts his head at him, listening. “I have some news.” 

“Okay…” 

“So, uhm…” He swallows. “Every year they assign solos to dancers, and there’s one for every group, like types of dance, and age, and gender and stuff.” His voice is quiet, and he knows his friends can’t hear him, but Lucas definitely can, because his head slowly moves until it’s not tilted anymore, his smile dropping. “And…” 

“Oh my god.” Lucas’s eyes widen. “Did you get it?” 

Jens can feel his heart pound like practice just ended, and he presses his lips together, raising his eyebrows. 

“ _Oh my god!_ ” Lucas repeats, jumping and wrapping his arms around Jens’s shoulders. Jens laughs, catching him and wrapping his own arms around him as he feels Lucas’s legs circle his waist. Lucas pulls away, placing his hands on Jens’s neck and he kisses him repeatedly and quickly, scattering them across his mouth and cheeks and chin and forehead and nose. Jens scrunches his nose, laughing harder, running his hands across Lucas’s thighs, feeling the folds in the fabric of his jeans. Jens can hear the others laughing behind him, but he forgets about them when Lucas presses another kiss to his mouth, lingering longer and letting their lips part. 

“Gross,” Lena says and Rosa and Damien laugh. 

Lucas pulls away, and for a second Jens thinks he’s laughing as well, but his eyes lock on Jens’s, looking glassy and intense. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he says quietly, and Jens’s suddenly burn. He smiles weakly and lifts his chin for another kiss. As Lucas kisses him again, they hear Rosa speak behind them. 

“Are you guys just gonna make out or are we gonna go celebrate?” 

Lucas laughs against his mouth and Jens turns to face her, still carrying Lucas. 

“You think we’re not celebrating?” he says when they finally pull away. 

“I think _you’re_ ”—she points at the two of them— “celebrating. I think _we_ ” —she gestures to all of them, rotating her arm at the elbow with her index finger still extended— “need to celebrate.” 

“Fine,” Jens sighs, and he lets go of Lucas’s legs, letting him slide down. 

“How are we gonna celebrate?” Lucas asks her, glancing between her and Damien, at Damien’s arm around her. As Rosa looks at Lena questioningly, Lucas raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes at Damien, but he deflates when Damien shakes his head at him, dropping his shoulders and giving him a disappointed look. 

“What about getting coffee?” she asks, missing the silent exchange between them. She looks at Lucas and Jens before up at Damien. 

“Coffee sounds good,” Jens says. “And maybe we can get cake too.” 

Lucas’s face lights up and he nods. 

“Oh, I want cake too,” Lena says. She leads the way, in the opposite direction as the cafe Jens and Lucas usually go to, but neither of them say anything about it. 

Lucas’s hand slips into Jens’s pocket, where Jens’s hand already is, and their fingers twist together in the warmth. Lucas squeezes gently and Jens turns to look at him, pulling his eyes away from Lena, who’s jumping on Damien’s back as they make their way down the sidewalk. 

“My dancer,” Lucas says softly after a second, and Jens leans down, his other hand tightening on the strap of his bag as he kisses him gently, smiling at Lucas’s pink, cold-bitten cheeks.


	28. You Don't Have To Be Brave

It’s not that Lucas isn’t happy. 

He _is_ happy. Truly, really, entirely. He wasn’t expecting to be happy if he’s honest. He was kind of expecting to be alone for the most part. Moving in with a cousin he hadn’t seen in years, with two strangers he didn’t even know by name before the day he was moving boxes into his room, he wasn’t expecting to be very happy, wasn’t expecting to look forward to coming home in the evening, to play board games and cook while watching Milan and Senne slow dance to an upbeat, electronic song that’s in no way a song to sway to. He wasn’t expecting to have people who are _actually_ supportive of his art, to have people ask to see what he’s working on, to have people ask questions, about how long it takes or what materials he uses. He wasn’t expecting people to surprise him with new sketchbooks (complete with a red, metallic bow, though it’s months until the holidays, thanks to Milan) and pencils. 

He wasn’t expecting to have friends, wasn’t expecting to have a friend to talk about art with, to text about a work in progress that he’s having trouble with. He wasn’t expecting to have plans with said friend, plans to meet up at a cafe and bring sketchbooks, plans to _hang out_ , something he hadn’t really done (except with Jens) since moving. Especially because he isn’t even going to school in person, he’d expected to spend most of his time in his room, studying and working and drawing and painting. 

He certainly wasn’t expecting to have a boyfriend. He had honestly expected to not date, not even talk to anyone, until university. 

But here he is. 

Feeling more comfortable, more safe, more him than he’d ever felt before. No one asks about his nails, painted a sparkly, light pink, or about the thin black lines above his lashlines. (Jens had gazed at him as he spoke, his eyes flicking back and forth between Lucas’s before Lucas finally let out an exasperated “What?” at Jens’s distracted behaviour, forgetting he was wearing it. Jens had smiled and said quietly “The eyeliner looks pretty,” and Lucas had been so overwhelmed with joy, with relief, that he’d just leaned in and kissed him, forgetting completely about what he was telling Jens.) Nobody questions the sheer button-downs in the laundry room or the butterfly hair clips and makeup brushed scattered across his desk. Things he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in Utrecht, things he wouldn’t mention to his friends (except Ralph and Noah, _maybe_ ), things he would hide away in the back of his closet (he’s aware of the irony), things he would bury under other clothes, in boxes under his bed. 

He doesn’t have to be afraid here, doesn’t have to hide, doesn’t feel like he has to hide. He leaves his things out, grins sheepishly when Zoë scolds him for leaving his makeup out in the bathroom because it gets mixed up with hers. 

He feels safe. Secure. Comfortable. Limitless. 

But when he remembers Utrecht, remembers Kes and Jayden and Isa and his other friends from school, his heart sinks a little bit. 

They don’t know about this, about this new Lucas. They don’t know about the nail polish, the butterfly clips, about the eyeliner or the sheer fabric. When they think about him (though he’s beginning to doubt that they even do), they probably think about hoodies, skateboards, short hair, about him kissing girls at school. 

They don’t know him. 

Lucas sighs, falling onto his back on his bed. He tucks a hand under his head, refraining from chipping the polish on his nails, tanging his fingers in his hair. 

He thinks maybe there’s a chance he won’t have to worry about it, about them not knowing him. He barely talks to them, save for a meme every once in a while from Isa. He hasn’t talked to Jayden since their last video call, since he told Lucas he seemed _weird_. Kes has sent him a “Hey” text but the conversation dwindled until it was gone in just a few minutes. 

A part of him mourns it. A part of him grieves. 

It feels like he’s losing a part of him, a part of his life. His childhood, the parts of his life that were there when he became human. (Although that still feels like it’s happening. Maybe being human takes time. Practice.) 

He did manage to talk to them yesterday, Jayden and Kes, and they’d all managed to schedule a time to meet online. He’s been nervous, the same kind of nervous he felt when he had to break up with a girl from school. “It’s just not going to work with us,” he’d told her, feeling bad even though he knew there was nothing he could do to make it work. Somehow it feels the same right now. There’s the same pit in his stomach, the same lump in his throat. 

He doesn’t know what he’s going to say to them. 

He has no plans. 

He covers his face with his other arm, his elbow covering his eyes, blocking out the light coming in through the window. It’s golden light, the afternoon just coming to an end, and usually, he’d be up at his window, watching the sun go down. But now his throat feels stuck, his stomach knotted. 

\--- 

It’s a while before they call. 

His phone buzzes first, on the bed next to him, and he uncovers his face, forcing himself to get up in a bleary stupor, ignoring the way his heart rate picks up, ignoring the tremor of his hands as he sets his laptop down on his bed and sits criss-cross in front of it, ignoring the way he suddenly feels spacey, unfocused in his own mind. 

Before he realises, both their faces are on the screen in front of him. He’s vaguely aware that his room might be too dim for them to see him clearly, but he doesn’t mind. Maybe this way they won’t be able to see the pink powder set across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. 

“Hi.” 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“Hey, man.”

Maybe it’s just Lucas’s anxiety, but it sounds like they know. Like they know what he’s about to tell them, what he’s feeling, dreading. 

“I, uhm…” He swallows down his nausea, looking at them both, Kes to Jayden, Kes to Jayden, left to right, right to left, left to right, right to left. “There’s something I wanna tell you.”

“Okay,” Kes says, nodding, prompting. 

Lucas takes a deep breath, pulling the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands, fidgeting.

“So I…” There aren’t any specific thoughts in his mind right now, nothing telling him what to say, how to say it, where to look, what to do. “I don’t really know how to say this.” 

“Just say it,” Kes says, his face looking concerned. Jayden is quiet. 

“I’m gay,” Lucas says, and then he can’t stop.

“And I know it might be weird or… yeah. It’s just, I’m out over here, in Antwerp, and I felt like I was lying to you because I’m different here than I was in Utrecht, but I didn’t want anything to change, but it feels like stuff was already changing, and I figured I couldn’t do anything about it so I thought… might as well.” 

He looks up at them, pulling his eyes away from his quickly moving hands, where he hadn’t realised he was looking, and they both just look… blank. 

“I mean we haven’t been talking much at all,” he continues, unable to help himself, his voice rapid, “and I thought maybe it was just the distance and it was weird at first but then it just turned into me thinking that you guys just didn’t like me and you were, like, waiting for me to leave, but it just got confusing.” 

He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, feeling it desperate to get out even though, in a way, it’s just escaped. 

They continue to stare. He thinks for a second that they’re frozen, that the connection is bad, but the fan behind Jayden continues to spin, Kes’s eyes continue to blink. 

“I know we’re… drifting apart,” he says after a few painful seconds. “I’m not trying to fight it, I just… I just want you guys to know me. And it’s okay if we don’t talk anymore, like it’s not… I know how it is. I’m still…” He shrugs. “Grateful. I love you guys. And I always will, I’ll always be here for you, I’ll always have your back. But it’s okay.” 

“Luc,” Kes says suddenly. “We don’t care that you’re gay. I mean, we _care_ , obviously, but it’s not like it’s all we care about. It just feels like you’re so different.” He leans forward, looking away from the camera, from the screen, moving his hands as he talks. 

“It feels like we don’t know you,” Jayden adds. 

“Maybe you don’t.” He shrugs. “I mean, if I’m honest, it wasn’t like I was really me in Utrecht.”

Silence. 

“What are you talking about?” Jayden asks in a small voice. 

“I just…” Lucas shifts, pushing himself up before setting himself down again, uncrossing his legs before recrossing them, the left over the right, his shoulders tense, uncomfortable. “I’m gay,” he says, unsure of how to continue, how to explain himself. 

“You said,” Kes interjects. “That’s fine.” 

Lucas smiles softly before continuing.

“I’m gay, but I’m like, _gay_ gay. Like you guys remember me with like, hoodies and—and stuff,” he stammers, averting his gaze and looking around the room. His hands fumble on his sleeves, tugging and rubbing the fabric as he tries to not let the walls close around him. “But I’m a fucking stereotype. I’m gay, and I like sparkles, and makeup, and sometimes I like to wear skirts. And I’ve always been like this, but I was so fucking embarrassed about it that I never, like… Did anything about it.” 

His voice cracks at _embarrassed_. He doesn’t remember ever saying it before. He glances at the screen before looking away, feeling like they’re both sitting in front of him, in person, real. His eyes sting, and he swallows, choking slightly. 

“But when I got here, there was no one I knew, and I didn’t feel like I had to be scared of being me. I didn’t feel like I had to worry about confusing anyone or making anyone uncomfortable, and I could just… exist like I wanted.” 

“Luc,” Kes says at the same time that Jayden opens his mouth. “You don’t have to worry about that anymore.” His voice is soft, and when Lucas looks at him, his eyes look glassy on Lucas’s computer screen.

“Lucas, we love you,” Jayden says, and Lucas lets himself go. 

He covers his face with his hands as his eyes squeeze shut, tears rolling down his cheeks, his heart pounding. The walls fall away. After forcing his face to relax, he takes a deep, shuddering, stuttering breath and drops his hands, looking to the screen. 

Kens is wiping under his eye, smiling. 

Jayden has his face in his hands, looking back at Lucas, who laughs lightly, not knowing what to do. 

“Sorry,” he gasps, looking away as he wipes another tear from his cheek, rubbing the side of his covered hand across his face. 

There’s a moment as they all collect themselves, wiping their faces, taking deep breaths, and it’s broken by Kes.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, looking at Lucas earnestly. 

“For what?”

“For…” Kes pauses, his eyes squeezing shut, a hand covering part of his face. He takes a sharp breath before continuing. “Making you feel like you had to hide.” His voice is thin.

“Kes,” Lucas starts, leaning closer, shaking his head. “It wasn’t you, it was just…” He waves his hand vaguely. “Everything.”

“I hate everything,” Jayden says, and Lucas laughs. 

“Everything’s getting better.” 

They nod, and Lucas smiles weakly, wiping his face once again. His shoulders release, exhausted, and he rubs his face, suddenly drained. He takes a deep, heavy breath. 

“Dude?” Jayden’s voice says, breaking for just a split second through the iffy connection, and Lucas looks at him. 

“Yeah?” 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” 

Lucas scoffs, grinning as he covers his face, his fingers pressed to his forehead. He hears Kes let out a loud “O-o-o-hhh…” and laughs harder, looking to the screen in time to see Kes pushing himself up and then laying down on his stomach after pushing his laptop away from himself, resting his chin in his hands. Lucas looks away, feeling his face burn.

It’s back. 

Everything he’d missed with them, every time he wished he could talk to them, tell them something. Every time he’d wanted to text them, call them, hear them. Every opportunity he’d skipped, every chance he hadn’t taken. Here it is. 

“Tell us!” Jayden exclaims, interrupting Lucas’s thoughts and soft smile. 

“He, uhm…” 

“What’s his name?” Kes prompts. 

Lucas pauses, looking away, still smiling, biting his lower lip. 

“Jens.” 

“Jens…” Jayden repeats. “Tell us about him.” 

“He, uhm…” Lucas says again, laughing at himself. “He’s great.” 

Jayden waves his hand, trying trying to prompt him, but when it shows to be unsuccessful, he says  
“In what way?” 

“Oh, Jesus…” Lucas falls onto his back, looking up to the ceiling. He hears them both laugh. Maybe he was also missing something like this; being able to talk about Jens freely, as his _boyfriend_ , not having to worry about skipping over anything that would make him seem like anything more than a crush. “He’s just amazing,” he says, sitting back up and looking at them. They’re both grinning, and Lucas can almost see the familiar gleam in Kes’s eyes through the screen, the gleam he used to be so captivated by. 

Jayden waves his hand again. 

“He’s…” Lucas sighs. “Nice, and kind, and considerate… He’s so gentle.”

They both smile, not saying anything. 

“He’s so funny,” Lucas continues. “He has a dumbass sense of humour, I think you guys would get along with him.” He ignores the simultaneous “Hey!”s, and suppresses a smile. “He can _always_ make me smile, it’s incredible.” 

“Are you in love with him?” Kes asks. 

Lucas is quiet for a second, his eyes unfocused, a mindless smile lingering on his face. 

“I think so.” 

Jayden lets out a soft squeal and Lucas laughs out loud. 

“You _think_ so?” Kes says, ignoring it. “You don’t know?” 

“I think I am. We haven’t…” Lucas sighs, leaning back on his hands. “We haven’t said it.” 

“Why? How long have you been together?” Jayden asks.

“A while. We met a little after I got here.” 

“You don’t have an exact date?” 

“Not really. We were like… flirty and stuff from the start. And I kissed him and then we didn’t really say anything about it. But it was still there, like the thing between us. You know?” 

“So why haven’t you said it?” Kes asks, his brow furrowed with curiosity. “If you’re sure?” 

“I just don’t think I really have to, I guess.” He leans forward again, dropping his hands in his lap. “I mean, he knows how I feel about him, I know how he feels about me. It works.” 

“That’s really cute,” Kes says softly, and Lucas gives him an exaggeratingly sweet smile, shrugging a shoulder up until it presses into his cheek. 

“Are you guys alike?” Jayden asks. 

“You mean are we both flamingly homosexual?” Lucas says with a laugh. 

“I—Sure.” 

“Uhh…” Lucas takes a deep breath, leaning and stretching his back before sitting the way he was before, his back hunched over. “He’s bi. And also, like, more masculine than me. Except…” He almost giggles, pressing the backs of his fingers to his cheek, trying to suppress his smile. 

“What?” Kes’s voice says. 

“He’s a ballet dancer, but other than that he’s more masculine than me.” 

“Oh my god.” 

“Da-a-amn, Lucas.” 

He giggles for real this time, covering his face, his eyes scrunching up under his smile. 

“Have you seen him dance?” Kes asks. 

“I’ve seen him do just like little combinations but I haven’t seen him do a full dance. But he got the solo in his studio this year, and he wants me to go to the recital, so…” 

“Ooooo. Exciting,” Jayden says, clapping his hands together lightly. “When is it?” 

“In a few weeks. He only just found out recently and we went to celebrate at a cafe with some of his friends. And I’m going over to his later today.” 

“Oop, you know what that means,” Kes says with his eyebrows raised and his head tilted, his eyes on his own computer screen averting and Lucas knows he’s looking at Jayden. Lucas rolls his eyes as Jayden wiggles his brows and his shoulders, letting out another “Ooooo…” 

“I’m gonna hang up on you.” 

“No, don’t!” Kes says, holding a hand out like he can stop him. 

“How’d you meet?” Jayden asks after taking a second to stop laughing. 

Lucas sighs before getting into it. 

“So I like to just wander the city, right…” 

\---

A few minutes after they hang up, Lucas’s phone vibrates. It’s on his bed, and he’s setting a canvas against the wall on his desk, so he finishes first, making sure it’s set securely and won’t fall. As he’s slowly pulling his hands away from the painting (a messy abstract in oils), his hands open in front it, ready to catch it if it falls, he hears it vibrate again. He waits for a second, and the painting doesn’t fall, so he turns and lays on the bed, expecting a text from Jens. 

But it’s from Jayden. 

_I’m sorry_  
_about what i said last time_

Lucas pauses for a second before responding, forgetting what he’d said in the high of having finally talked to him and Kes, for real. 

_it’s okay_

Jayden begins typing just a second after, and Lucas waits, his eyes focused on the screen. 

no it’s not, i was mean 

As Lucas begins typing, Jayden types again. 

_youve changed but its a good change_

Lucas smiles softly. 

_i only really changed visibly, ive always been like this_

_youre right, ik_  
_you seem happier_  
_im happy for you_  
_im proud of you_

Lucas almost laughs, imagining how Jayden cringing at himself sending these messages. But they seem heartfelt. 

_thanks, jayden_

His smile softens as Jayden responds. 

_i love you, man_  
_and i support you and im here for you_  
_and i will NOT HESITATE to fight jens if he hurts you_

_im not expecting him to but thank you anyway_  
_i love you too_

\---  
Lucas only gets nervous _after_ he’s knocked. 

A sudden burst of anxiety erupts in his chest, realising he doesn’t know whether Jens’s mom and sister have left yet. He does hope they have, of course, but as he waits, not hearing anything from behind the front door, he tries to think of what he’d say if one of them answered. 

Lotte, he figures, would probably recognise him as the FaceTime guy. Whether she’d say hello, or say anything to imply that she knows him, he doesn’t know. Jens’s mother would probably as who he is, and, if he’s honest, would probably be taken aback by his appearance. 

He’s wearing a pink sweatshirt, for starters, his favourite one, with little ruffles at the shoulders, and a hood, though it isn’t pulled over his head right now. His hair is kept out of his face with a silver hair clip (he decided not to use the pink one because it didn’t match the sweatshirt), and there’s purple eyeshadow brushed on the outer corners of his eyes. (“If you ever want to borrow some lipstick, let me know,” Zoë said, watching him as he focused, his tongue touching his lip, the small brush blending the purple into his skin.)

The corners of his eyes wrinkle as he smiles when it’s Jens who answers the door, after taking a quick sigh of relief. 

“Come inside; you’re not cold?” Jens asks, tugging Lucas in by his sleeve. He presses a quick kiss to his mouth as he shuts the door behind him.

“This sweatshirt is really warm, actually.” 

“Hm.” 

Lucas wraps his arms around Jens’s neck, kissing him again, slower, smiling softly against his mouth. Jens pulls away, smiling as he looks at Lucas, his eyes going back and forth between Lucas’s. He brings his hands up and pushes a curl out of his face, gently taking down the barrette and clipping it again with the curl. When he drops his hands to Lucas’s shoulders, he’s quiet, his eyes soft. 

“What?” Lucas whispers.

“You look pretty,” Jens says softly. His thumb brushes gently, so gently Lucas almost can’t feel it, under his eye, touching the purple. Lucas smiles, his face blooming pink, and lifts his chin, asking for a kiss. 

“You have a good day?” he asks when they part, and Jens nods, pulling him down the hall to his room. 

“I had a long day,” he says, “because I was waiting the whole time to see you.” 

“Aw, baby…” Lucas pouts his lower lip out, batting his eyelashes until Jens snickers, pulling Lucas in by his waist. As their lips touch again, Lucas’s hands slip up to his head, his fingers tangling in his hair and tugging as Jens’s tongue slides between his lips. 

He tastes sweet, and Lucas hums into his mouth, feeling Jens’s hand creep around his waist to the small of his back and then down his backside, sliding to the backs of his thighs and pulling. Lucas giggles, letting go of his hair and gripping the collar of his shirt as Jens picks him up, biting down on his lip gently, stepping across the room to his desk and setting him on it, tilting his head and sliding his hands down Lucas’s legs, leaving trails that are somehow simultaneously hot and cold in their wakes. 

They pull away after a little bit, and Lucas’s heart swells upon seeing that Jens’s lips are red (and he assumes his own are too). 

“Oh, guess what I did today?” he says softly, suddenly remembering what it was that he’d actually planned on telling Jens. 

“Hm?” Jens’s eyes are half-closed, his hands firmly placed on Lucas’s hips, and Lucas sweeps his thumbs across his cheekbones. 

“You remember my friends I told you about? Kes and Jayden?” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

He’d mentioned them to Jens, short anecdotes about Utrecht, stories about school and parties, also mentioning Isa and Liv. He’d told Jens about how he felt they were drifting apart, telling him about the call with Jayden and how he’d felt, how he was scared to lose them but felt it was inevitable. 

“I called them this morning.” 

Jens’s eyes open up a bit. His thumbs move in little circles over his hips. 

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.” 

“And?” 

Lucas tries unsuccessfully to suppress a smile, his fingers playing with the strings of Jens’s hoodie. 

“I came out to them,” he says, feigning nonchalance. 

He looks up when Jens remains silence, stifling a laugh when he sees Jens’s wide eyes and a smile just playing at his lips. 

“ _Hm?_ ” 

Lucas covers his mouth with a hand, leaning in so his forehead presses to Jens’s and then pulls away when Jens’s hands press against his hips. 

“You did what now?” 

“I told them about you,” Lucas says, lifting his chin in mock pride, resting his hands on Jens’s shoulders. “And about how I’m super, super gay.” 

“About me?” Jens says in sarcastic confusion, pointing to himself and raising his eyebrows. “You told them about me?” 

“I told them _all_ about you.” 

“ _All_ about me?” 

“Well,” Lucas says, looking away and cocking his head for a second as he placing his hands back in Jens’s hair. “Just what they need to know.”

“And that would be…” 

Lucas sighs, kissing him briefly. 

“Just that you make me happy. And you’re a dancer, which they think is fucking fantastic. Kes says when he visits he wants to see you dance.” 

“Kes is visiting?”

“Eventually. No plans so far.”

“Mm.” 

Lucas quirks his eyebrows at him. 

“I’m proud of you,” Jens murmurs after a second, kissing his forehead softly. 

Lucas beams, his cheeks pink, and he wraps his arms around Jens’s neck again, looking at his face.

It takes a few seconds, but it slowly falls, his smile dropping until he looks… sad. 

“You don’t have to,” Lucas whispers, knowing. 

Jens is quiet, sliding his hands up to Lucas’s waist, slipping under his hoodie and t-shirt, pressing against his skin. His hands are warm. 

“It feels silly,” he says quietly. “Being scared to come out to them.”

“It’s not.” 

“I know, I just…” Jens sighs, looking down. “I mean, Robbe’s gay, and Aaron and Moyo love him and Sander, I don’t know why it’s such a big deal.” 

“It’s okay,” Lucas says, placing a hand on Jens’s jaw, pressing his thumb under Jens’s chin so he looks at him. “You don’t have to until you’re ready.” 

Jens sighs again, lightly, scanning Lucas’s face, so Lucas leans in and kisses him. 

“It’s not silly to be scared,” Lucas says before Jens can say anything. “It’s normal. Especially in a world like this.” 

“I don’t wanna be scared,” Jens says, quietly, almost under his breath. 

Lucas just touches his face, brushing his fingertips over his cheekbones and brows like he’s drawing him. 

“But I don’t wanna be brave either,” Jens adds. “It’s stupid. That I have to be brave just existing.”

“It is,” Lucas agrees, He cocks his head at him, looking at the softness in his dark eyes. “You don’t have to be brave right now.” 

“Okay,” Jens whispers. 

Lucas pulls him in, wrapping his arms around his tightly, and Jens reciprocates, his arms around Lucas’s waist, his fingers against Lucas’s bare skin. Jens buries his face in Lucas’s neck as Lucas’s fingers end up in Jens’s hair, combing out the tangles gently, scratching his scalp. They both sigh, rocking back and forth slightly, so slightly neither of them really notices. 

“My dancer,” Lucas breathes as Jens kisses his neck gently, and Jens’s arms tighten around him.


	29. We Can Make That Work

Jens sighs heavily after shutting his bedroom softly, and turns, pressing his forehead to the cold wood that warms under his skin. He breathes deeply, shutting his eyes, his hand sliding to the pocket of his hoodie and his fingers wrapping around his phone before letting go and sliding back out. He steps back from the door, his eyes opening and looking across his room blearily, blinking in the fading sunlight streaming in from his window. He takes of his backpack, dropping it to the floor gently as he falls into his bed, pausing on his stomach for a second, his eyes closed, his arms folded under his head, before he rolls onto his side, curling into himself. One arm tucks under his head and his eyes open, looking up to the wall above his desk. 

He can’t see all the art from the angle he’s at, but knowing it’s there is enough. 

He pulls his phone out of his pocket after fishing for it under the fold of the thick fabric, and after a few seconds, raises it to his ear. 

“Hey, beautiful,” Lucas’s voice says after the dial tone sounds twice. Jens smiled softly and his eyes close again.

“Hi,” he says. 

“How are you?” 

Jens’s sigh answers him. 

Jens hears Lucas move, like he’s sliding down on his bed, and Lucas says “Okay,” with a light chuckle before saying in a gentle voice, “How’s your mom?”

“Fine.”

“Lotte?”

Jens sighs again, lifting his head enough to move his hair out of his face. He swallows, his fingers twisting in his hair. Lucas waits. 

“She has a shutdown at the mall.” 

Lucas hums. 

“How is she now?”

“Okay. In her room.” 

“You sound tired.”

“Not as tired as her.”

He hums again. 

“What happened?” he asks after a few quiet seconds. 

“Sensory overload. There were a lot more people we were expecting to be there. Too many lights and noises and stuff around her. Too much stimulation.”

He remembers how it started, how her eyes got foggy and unfocused and her shoulders lifted up high, how a quiet whine emitted from her throat and she pulled away every time someone or something bumped her shoulder. How she got slow, not responding when Jens or their mom asked a question. Her hand slowly lifted to hold his thumb loosely. He had to wrap his other fingers around her little hand to keep it there. She stumbled behind him a little, so he walked slowly. 

Until her breathing got heavy, ragged, until he could hear her breathing over the talking and music and bustle of shoppers. 

Soon after that he gently pulled her out of the store, signalling to him mom that they were going, leaving her with a basket full of clothes and school supplies. 

They’d ended up on the floor against a wall outside the store, near the unopening elevators. He breathed slowly as she slid down the wall, her hair falling so hide her face, and he refrained from pushing it back. 

“Hey, ladybug, look at me,” he’d said, angling his head to try and catch her eye as she turned toward the wall. Her fingers still clutched his thumb. 

When she’d finally looked at him, he’d talked to her. 

_You’re okay._   
_I’ve got you._   
_I’m here._

He’d gently detached their hands and got her ear defenders and blanket out of his backpack, placing the headphones on her head, watching her eyes close, and then pulled the blanket over her, around her shoulders and head, tucked under her chin how she likes it. One of her hands grasped the place where the edges of the blanket met, gripping it tightly, and the other drifted until it found Jens’s, and Jens held it, placed her palm against his chest, and breathed in and out slowly, letting her feel his chest rise and fall.

By the time their mom had come out of the store, she’d practically deflated, laying against the wall with her eyes still closed. 

He’d carried her out of the store. She’d fallen asleep in the car. 

“Jens?” 

“Yeah,” he whispers. 

“What are you thinking?”

“Uhm...” He rolls over onto his back holding his phone against his ear. “I worry,” he says quietly. 

“Tell me.”

“I mean... I know she’s only eight. And she gets help at school and outside of school and she’s already made progress. And we don’t have to worry about it right now. But when she grows up, I just... worry that I’m not always gonna be around for her. You know?”

“Does she have any idea what she wants to do?” Lucas asks. 

Jens smiles. 

“She’s just said she wants to live with me.”

He can sense Lucas smile. 

“We can make that work,” Lucas says. 

Jens’s eyes almost water. 

“We?”

“You think we’re not going to love together?”

“I don’t know, I don’t think ahead that much.” 

“Well we will. And we can have a spare room for Lotte if she wants to stay with us.”

“Yeah?” Jens breaths. 

“Yeah.” He must take Jens’s silence as a go ahead to keeping going. He can’t see Jens’s wobbly smile. Or glistening eyes. “We can make the living room a studio. With a barre and floor for you and some easels and stuff for Lotte and me. We can make art together, the three of us.” 

Jens squeezes his eyes shut and a tear rolls down his temple, catching in his hair, and he rolls into his side again. 

“You said Lotte likes pancakes right?” Lucas asks, and Jens whispers a “Yeah,” not trusting his voice not to crack. 

“We can make pancakes together and stuff. Have pancake nights.” 

“Pancake is breakfast though.” 

“Hm?” Lucas says, and Jens can hear his sass through the phone. “I thought anything was dinner. Are you a coward?” 

A laugh bursts out of Jens and he covers his mouth with his free hand, his knees coming up so he’s curled up again. 

“No, you’re right,” he says. “Keep going.”

“Pancake nights with movies or art. We can take her to the skating rink.”

“You remembered.”

“Of course.”

Jens wipes his cheek. 

“I wanna kiss you,” he says quietly. 

“You can on Thursday...” Lucas says in an almost sing-songy voice. 

“That’s so far away,” Jens whines, aching to touch him. 

“I know,” Lucas sighs. “But we can go on a little date. And then we can hang out during the weekend.”

“Yeah,” Jens says quietly. “Get you some cake.”

“Get _us_ some cake.”

Jens hums in agreement. 

“And coffee.”

“And kisses.”

“And kisses.”


	30. I Love You

Lucas is leaning against a crosslight pole, ignoring the cold seeping through his jacket and sweatshirt (and ignoring the cold biting at his cheeks and nose, which he’s almost positive are the same shade of pink as the sky.) He scrolls on his phone, his fingers moving deftly across the screen as he responds to the group chat with Kes and Jayden (“ _you guys are so stupid_ ”), and as he sends a message to Isa. 

He came out to her the day after he came out to the guys, through a text message. 

_Hey, Ies_   
_So I don’t really know how to tell you this so I’m just going to say it_  
 _I’m gay_   
_And I’ve actually, really come to terms with it since moving and I have a boyfriend (his name is Jens, I think you’d really like him) and I kind of just wanted to tell you because I love you and you’re really important to me even though we haven’t been talking much_  
 _so yeah_

And her response had made him cry. 

_Lucas._  
 _I love you so much_  
 _and I support you and love you no matter what_   
_I expect to meet this Jens, I need deem him worthy of you_

Now he responds to a meme she’s sent but looks up when he hears Damien’s voice say his name. 

He grins as he watches Damien, Lena, and Rosa come out of the studio building, laughing as Lena attempts to trip Rosa unsuccessfully. 

“Hey, honey!” Lena says as they approach him and they both reach out, slapping their palms together before she lifts herself up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. 

“Jens is talking to Cecile, he should be down soon,” Rosa tells him, answering his unspoken question before kissing his cheek and Lucas nods as he shakes Damien’s hand. “I know you miss him,” she adds, smiling sweetly. 

“I do,” he says, sighing. “How was practice?” 

“Good,” Damien says, his voice a stark difference from Rosa’s, which is light and gentle, _soft-spokem_ as Jens had said, whereas Damien’s, while also gentle, is low and rough. “I would like to go to bed like, right now, but I have homework.”

Rosa gives him an exaggerated frown, drawing a finger down her cheek from her eye, and he laughs, hitting her shoulder lightly. Lucas shakes his head at them, smiling, and he catches Lena’s eye. She shakes her head, copying him, and rolls her eyes. 

“Stop flirting in front of Lucas,” she says, hitting Damien. “You’re gonna make him miss Jens even more.” 

“Shut up,” Rosa says, her cheeks darkening, as Damien hits Lena back saying, “We’re not—” as she giggles, hiding from his swinging hand behind Lucas. 

“Anyway,” Rosa says when Lena steps next to Lucas. “Practice was fine. Cecile is excited about the recital coming up so she’s extra bubbly.” 

“If that’s what you want to call it,” Damien says. 

“What do you mean?” Lucas asks. 

“It’s like she chugs five cans of Red Bull before we get there,” Lena says, looking up at him. 

“It’s actually ridiculous. But, also kind of encouraging?” Damien says, cocking his head, and Lena and Rosa both nod, agreeing. 

“She’s kind of like Lena before she has a date,” Rosa says. 

“Look,” Lena says, holding a finger up, and Damien smiles as he pulls his phone partially out of his pocket, looking at the screen. “I get very excited to see Elsa because she’s fun, and you know that.” 

“She is, it’s true,” Rosa concedes.

“She is,” Damien adds, and sighs. “I have to go, I have a project due tomorrow and I have not started.” He does finger guns to Lucas. 

“What’s it about?” Lucas asks. 

“Psychoanalytic behaviour theory.”

“Eeee-yikes.” Lena makes a face, grimacing. “Good luck.”

“Thank you for your sympathy.” 

“Always.” 

“I’ll see you later,” Damien says to Lucas, shaking his head at Lena as she gives him a faux smile. 

“You know, you and Damien would be really cute together,” Lucas says to Rosa after Damien leaves, and she gives him a disappointed look as Lena squeals, grabbing Lucas’s arm and shaking him back and forth. 

“Lucas, don’t you start…” 

“I’m just saying!” 

“Well, stop saying,” she says, leaning forward with emphasis, a hint of a teasing smile on her face. 

He holds his hands up, surrendering, still laughing as Lena shakes him one last time, finally shoving him and letting go. 

“You would be cute together,” Lena says, just to jab at Rosa. 

“ _Sto-o-o-op_.”

“Whatever,” Lena huffs. “Anyway. I’m tired, so I’m going to go to bed as soon as I get home.”

“No homework?” Lucas asks, bumping his shoulder against Rosa affectionately. 

“Oh, no, there’s definitely homework. But am I gonna do it?” She raises her eyebrows, looking at him. “No.”

He holds back a laugh, inhaling, and then purses his lips, furrowing his brow at her. 

“I feel like you should do your homework.” 

“I feel like I need a nap.” 

He shrugs. 

“Can’t argue with that.” 

“Well, _I’m_ gonna do my homework,” Rosa says. “So I’m going to go home.”

“Can I walk you?” Lena asks. “I don’t wanna be lonely.” She sticks her lower lip out, tilting her head slightly and giving Rosa puppy eyes. 

“Sure, why not.” 

Lena drops the look immediately. 

“Because I for sure am going to annoy the shit out of you.”

“Fuck.” 

Lucas laughs and leans down as they both tilt their heads up to kiss his cheeks simultaneously, and he smiles, his cheeks turning pinker than they already were. 

He watches as they walk down the sidewalk together, and smiles more when Rosa catches Lena’s hand and swings it. Lena lifts their hands and makes Rosa twirl, catching her by the arm when she stumbles and Lucas can just hear their laughter from where he stands. 

He waits a few more minutes, his hands curled into fists and stuffed into his pockets, until the doors open again and Jens steps out, his cheeks flushed red, his hair mussed, his mouth smiling. He shuts the door behind himself with both hands and then comes toward Lucas, clutching the strap of the duffel bag going across his chest. 

“Hey,” he says, stepping up close to Lucas and grabbing his waist, kissing his mouth and swinging him around slightly, the soles of Lucas’s shoes rubbing roughly against the concrete.

“How was practice?” Lucas asks when they pull back, pressing his cold hands to Jens’s face. His skin is warm. 

“Good.” He steps back slightly so he can see Lucas’s face clearly. “I’m really tired.”

“Understandable.” Lucas kisses him again, tossing his arms over his shoulders. “The flat’s empty tonight, do you want to come over?” 

“That sounds good. I don’t have any homework either, so we can just chill. Or, I don’t have any homework due tomorrow, I definitely have something due next week but…” 

Jens keeps talking, but Lucas glances past him, over his shoulder. 

And sees Robbe.

And Moyo. And Aaron. 

He almost immediately feels sick, his eyes locking with Robbe’s, who looks surprised, frozen in his tracks like a deer in headlights, like a child caught stealing candy. 

“Uhm…” Lucas interrupts Jens, not taking his eyes off the guys, his arms slowly coming off of Jens’s shoulders as he steps back. 

“What?” Jens asks, his smile dropping as he notices Lucas’s distressed expression, and his hands fall from Lucas’s waist. Lucas’s eyes flick to Jens’s and back, gesturing to them subtly. 

Jens turns, and what little was left of his smile that was left on his face vanishes. He looks blank for a second before he steps away from Lucas, facing the guys. 

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice lower than usual, shaking slightly. Lucas looks to him, his heart aching, scared. He wants to grab his hand. 

“Jens, I swear, we didn’t know there was even a dance studio here,” Moyo says, stepping forward slightly when Robbe and Aaron don’t say anything. 

“What are you doing here?” Jens asks again, slower, louder. 

They’re quiet, looking dumbstruck, speechless. 

“Get out of here,” he says quietly, shaking his head faintly. 

“Jens—” Robbe steps forward, looking to comfort him, to reassure him, but Lucas shoots him a look, a _not now, just leave, please go_ look. 

“Get _out_ of here,” he says again, stepping forward with emphasis. 

Lucas reaches out and grabs his sleeve, tugging it gently, trying to pull him away, glancing at the few dancers around, who are starting to turn to watch. 

“ _Leave!_ ” 

“Baby…” Lucas says quietly, tugging his sleeve again, stepping closer to him. “Come on.”

The guys finally go, giving Jens one last apologetic, somewhat frightened, look. Lucas wonders if they’ve ever seen Jens like this, this angry, this scared. Robbe gives Lucas another look like he’s asking for reassurance, and Lucas shakes his head. _Just go._

“Fuck,” Jens says softly, lifting a hand and pressing his fingers to his forehead. 

“Jens…” Lucas pulls at his arm, trying to pull him somewhere else, somewhere where there aren’t people looking, watching, wondering. 

“I…” Jens inhales shakily, and Lucas pulls again, finally leading him to the entrance of the alley, murmuring “Come on.” 

When they’re behind the wall and there aren’t any eyes on them, Lucas pushes Jens’s hand out of the way and brushes his fingertips over his face, over his forehead, brows, cheekbones, nose, lips. 

“Okay?” he asks softly when Jens takes a deep breath, his eyes closed. 

Jens lets out a quiet whimper, and his face scrunches up. Lucas shushes him quietly, pulling him into a hug, wrapping his arms around his neck and feeling Jens’s wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. Jens buries his face in Lucas’s neck. 

“I’ve got you,” Lucas whispers quietly. 

“They weren’t supposed to know,” Jens chokes out, his voice thick. 

“I know, baby,” Lucas sighs, and he shuts his eyes. 

Jens pulls away abruptly. “I’m not—” He cuts off with a sharp breath. “I’m not ashamed of you.”

“I know, Jens,” Lucas says, shaking his head. “I know.”

“It’s just…” His eyes flick back and forth between Lucas’s, his mouth ajar as he seems to think his way through his thoughts and words. 

Lucas lifts a hand and wipes a tear from his cheek. 

“I’ve always had a secret,” Jens says after a second, quietly. Lucas listens. “For a little while, it was that I had a sister. I don’t know why,” he says adamantly. “I love her, with all my heart, it was just… how it was. And then it was the ballet. For years. And now they know about that, and I just…” 

“I understand, baby, I do,” Lucas whispers, leaning in and pressing his forehead to Jens’s, closing his eyes. 

“I don’t have anything,” Jens says, his voice breaking, and Lucas pulls back to look at him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Like…” He stops, crying, and Lucas holds him. “I’ve always had a secret, I’ve always had _something_ that was mine, that I…” He trails off, looking at Lucas, his eyes glassy and desperate, and Lucas nods, leaning in and kissing him gently. 

“I don’t have anything,” he says again.

“It’s okay, Jens,” Lucas whispers, ignoring the cars driving past, the sounds of voices from outside the studio, ignoring the rest of the world. He pulls him back into a hug, his arms around his neck, and carefully runs his hands through Jens’s hair, scratching his scalp and tugging his hair gently. 

Jens’s shoulders shake and he hides his face in Lucas’s neck again, against the warm skin of his neck (Lucas can feel the chill that’s beginning to set in on the tip of Jens’s nose and cheeks) and the fabric of his coat. Lucas sways him back and forth, squeezing his own eyes shut and trying not to cry, tightening his arms around him. 

When Jens’s shoulders stop shaking and his arms loosen around Lucas, the sky has darkened slightly. 

“They don’t know about this,” Lucas says softly. 

“Yes, they do,” Jens responds helplessly, lifting his head. His eyelashes are dark and clumped together like he’s wearing heavy mascara, and his cheeks are red. 

“No,” Lucas says, specifying, moving his hands to hold Jens’s face, his thumbs brushing under his eyes. “This right here. This moment. It’s ours.”

Jens’s face doesn’t change, and then—

“I love you.” 

Lucas smiles, pulling him in for a soft, slow kiss. 

“I love you too.”

\---

The flat is empty when they get there, though Jens had been prepared just in case someone was home. 

“What do we say if Zoë or Senne is home?” Lucas had asked as they made their way to the flat, their hands linked between them. 

“The truth, I guess,” Jens had responded, shrugging. “Might as well.”

It’s also dark, and Lucas turns the lights on as Jens messages his mom. 

“She says I can spend the night as long as I go to school tomorrow.” 

“Promise to go to school tomorrow?” Lucas asks, raising his eyebrows as he takes Jens’s jacket and hangs it by the door. 

“I guess,” he sighs dramatically, and Lucas kisses him again, smiling. 

They lay in Lucas’s bed together, their legs tangled, facing each other, Lucas’s fingers brushing over the back of Jens’s hand between them. They leave the lights off, letting the small amount of light left in the sky and from the streetlamps come through the window. 

“I might come out to Zoë when she gets home,” Jens says, his voice soft, his eyes watching Lucas’s fingertips run over his knuckles and down his fingers. 

“She’s coming home really late tonight,” Lucas says. 

“Then maybe I’ll tell her in the morning. It would be hard to take the same route to school as her without telling her I’m here.”

Lucas chuckles quietly. 

“True.” He looks up at Jens, studying him, seeing the flicker of uncertainty flash across his face. “She’s going to be supportive. You know she is.” 

“I know,” Jens says, almost inaudibly. “I’m still nervous.”

Lucas laces his fingers with Jens’s, squeezing lightly. 

“I wish…” Jens sighs. “I wish I could just… not care about what anyone says. Or thinks.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Like…” He shifts, his legs untangling from Lucas’s and then one of them laying on top of him. “I wish I could be like you.”

“What do you mean?” Lucas says, furrowing his brows in confusion. 

“I mean… You don’t care about what other people think and—” 

“That’s not true,” Lucas interrupts, and Jens’s eyes snap back to his. “I do care.”

Jens doesn’t say anything, listening. 

“I care too much, honestly.” He sighs, looking at where their hands are joined, watching his own thumb run back and forth over the back of Jens’s hand. “I care so much that I just… pretend not to. And hope that eventually maybe the care will just go away.” 

“It doesn’t seem like you care,” Jens says. 

“Maybe it’s working, then.” 

Jens smiles softly. 

“I mean… I care about how people look at me, what they think about my clothes—” he looks down at his purple pants and makes a face— “and my makeup, about the kinds of things people say online about people like me. And it’s… scary, you know?” 

Jens nods. 

“So I pretend I don’t care. And I shouldn’t honestly, I mean, life is short. Too short to give a shit.”

Jens scoffs and kisses him, leaning in close. 

“Well for what it’s worth,” he says when he pulls back, “I think you’re amazing.”

Lucas stares at him, smiling slightly. 

“And funny,” he says, “And smart and creative. And clever and beautiful and talented.” 

“Stop…” Lucas says half-heartedly, looking away as he feels his face flush, and Jens lifts his hand, detaching it from Lucas’s and pushing a curl out of Lucas’s face before letting his palm press to his cheek.

“And,” he continues, smiling, “I would be perfectly happy to spend the rest of my life with you.” 

“Are you proposing to me right now?” Lucas asks, putting on a scandalized expression. 

“Yeah,” Jens says. “Come here, get up.” He lifts his hand from Lucas’s face and sits up, pushing himself up and standing at the end of the bed, and Lucas turns to watch him but doesn’t get up. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, laughing softly. 

“Come here.” Jens beckons with a jerk of his head and Lucas scoffs lightly, shaking his head as he joins him. 

“I don’t have a ring, but…” 

Before he can move, Lucas lifts his hand, showing him the gold ring around his ring finger, and Jens lets out an “Oh!” excitedly, waiting as Lucas carefully slides it off, dropping it into Jens’s outstretched hand. 

Jens kneels in front of him, and Lucas watches in disbelief, shaking his head again, smiling. 

“Lucas van der Heijden, love of my life—” Lucas interrupts him with a snort, but he can’t take his eyes off him— “will you marry me?” 

Lucas watches him, his smile softening, his eyes burning. 

“Someday?” Jens adds. “When we can actually legally get married because we’re still just in high school right now?” 

“Yeah,” Lucas says, the word just a short gasp, nodding. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he repeats, laughing, nodding again. 

“Oh, thank God.” 

Lucas laughs again, louder, and Jens carefully slides the ring back into place. 

When it’s on, Lucas grabs Jens’s face, leaning down and kissing him and Jens slowly stands, placing his hands on Lucas’s hips to pull himself up. Lucas smiles against his mouth, opening his lips and feeling Jens’s do the same. 

Jens’s hands slip around and grasp his legs when Lucas bites down on his lower lip, tilting his head to kiss him deeper. He pulls, lifting Lucas up, and Lucas wraps his legs around his hips as Jens turns and kneels on the bed, lowering Lucas onto his back as Lucas’s fingers bury themselves in Jens’s already messy hair, pulling when Jens’s tongue slides into his mouth. Jens hums, and Lucas feels it vibrate into his mouth. 

Lucas places his hands on Jens’s face, holding him in place and kissing him again after pulling back for a gasp. Jens’s cheeks squish under his hands, and the kiss lingers, both of then inhaling deeply as Jens slides his hands under Lucas’s shirt, pressing to his skin. His hands are gentle, a little cold against Lucas’s waist, and Lucas shivers, kissing him again. 

Jens’s hands move up more, sliding over Lucas’s chest and making the sweatshirt ride up, but Lucas pushes at his shoulder, detaching their lips with a breathless huff, pushing Jens over so Lucas can climb onto his lap, leaning down and kissing him, sliding over his exposed collarbones and neck before he straightens up again, reaching down and pulling his sweatshirt over his head. 

Jens’s eyes scan over his bare chest, his hands sliding over his waist, up, up, up, until he pulls at his neck, pulling him down and leaning up until their open mouths crash together. Lucas presses his fingers against his neck again, just under the sharp line of his jaw, and smiles when he feels Jens’s quick pulse on his fingertips.

He pulls away, his smile growing when he hears Jens let out a quiet whine, leaning up and trying to catch Lucas’s lips again as his hands travel down his sides, resting on his thighs, slipping over the thick, folded fabric at his hips and squeezing. 

Lucas pauses, biting his lip and looking down at Jens’s face, his eyes shut, mouth hanging open, looking wistful. Just as his eyes begin to open, foggy and dazed, Lucas leans back down, pressing a short kiss to his mouth before kissing his cheek, his jaw, down his neck, pausing to bite and suck gently. Butterflies blossom in his stomach when Jens hums, open-mouthed and breathy, and Lucas smiles, kissing up his neck until he finds his earring. 

He kisses around it for a second, listening closely as Jens’s breath catches in his throat, feeling Jen’s hands tighten on him.

Lucas bites it, gently pulling before letting go and lifting his head, looking down at him, smiling at Jens’s heavy breathing. 

“Fuck,” Jens says, letting go of his thighs before tightening his grip again. “I love how you do that.”

“I know,” Lucas says, giggling as Jens’s mouth curves into a lazy, slow smile. Jens shakes his head, the smile growing, and leans up, kissing him. He lets go of his thighs again and wraps his arms around Lucas’s waist, the fabric of his hoodie soft against his bare skin, rising until he’s sitting up straight. Lucas runs his hands through his hair, pulling until Jens lets out a soft moan. 

\---

Lucas is almost asleep, but not quite. 

He knows Jens isn’t. He can feel him touching him, running his fingertips over his cheeks and lips, pushing back curls that fall in his face, pulling the blanket up over him. He isn’t cold, having put on Jens’s hoodie when he’d begun to shiver, but he does appreciate the extra warmth, and if he were slightly more awake than he is, he would smile. 

Instead, he sighs, nuzzling his face into his own arm, which is bent under his head, and Jens’s finger brushes lightly over his cheek. 

_I love you._

The words echo in his head.

They only said it once, in the alley, in _their_ alley. They didn’t need to say it after that. (They didn’t need to say it in the alley either if Lucas is honest. Everything they do says it. Every touch, every glance, every whisper and gasp.) 

Lucas hears the front door open, the sound of the slight creak and quiet click of it shutting muffled by the walls and Lucas’s bedroom door. He doesn’t move but feels Jens’s hand still on his face before it lifts, leaving his cheek cold. The bed moves as Jens gets up, and Lucas bends his knees, curling into himself. A part of him wants to look at Jens, but his eyes don’t open. 

The bedroom door opens and the room chills slightly. Jens must leave the door open because his voice is clear in the silent flat. 

“Hey,” he says, sounding tentative. 

“Jens!” Zoë’s voice says, quiet and friendly. , and there’s a quiet thump like she’s dropped her backpack. “What are you doing here?” 

“Uhm, I’m here with Lucas.” He sounds hesitant, careful. 

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys were friends.” Lucas can hear her smile in her voice. 

“Actually, we’re uh… we’re dating.” 

A pause. 

“Oh!” 

Another pause. 

“I didn’t know…”

“Yeah, I haven’t— I haven’t told anyone.”

“Oh. Not… Robbe? I mean…” 

Jens laughs quietly. 

“No, I— I didn’t tell him, but uhm…” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” It’s quiet for a second. “I was thinking about telling Jana and them tomorrow.” 

“If you want to. We can walk together.” 

“Yeah.” 

It’s quiet before they both laugh quietly. 

“I’m assuming you’re the one that makes Lucas all smiley,” Zoë says, and Jens giggles again. 

“Maybe…” 

It’s quiet again, and Lucas smiles to himself. 

“I’m really happy for you, Jens,” Zoë says. 

“Thank you.” 

There’s a quiet rustle like they’re hugging, then quiet shuffling on the floor and a slight creak, and a few seconds later, Zoë’s voice says, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” whispering just outside his open door. 

The bed moves again, shifts under Jens’s weight, and the blanket lifts off of Lucas before lowering again, shutting out the short rush of cold air over him. (He appreciated the blanket a little more now.) He can feel Jens’s eyes on him and Jens’s fingertip traces his cheek and lines of his lips. 

Jens takes a short, quiet breath before, 

“I think it’s getting easier.” 

His voice is hushed, just a breath. 

And Lucas smiles again, turning his head slightly and pressing a lazy kiss to his hand. Jens moves closer, tossing the blanket up so it doesn’t get caught between them, and Lucas straightens his legs, letting Jens’s entwine with them, and Jens’s arm wraps around Lucas’s waist. Lucas feels Jens’s hair brush his chin and neck, and Jens presses his face to Lucas’s chest. 

Lucas finally starts to drift off, his arm resting over Jens. 

“I love you,” Jens breathes, and Lucas almost doesn’t hear it. 

But he does. 

He moves his hand, feeling up Jens’s back and neck until he finds his head, and then tangles his fingers in his hair, tugging lightly once. 

_I love you, too._


	31. A Little Lighter

Jens wakes up in the dark to the sound of his phone buzzing and chiming. Lucas moves when the sound fills the room, taking in a breath and exhaling as Jens moves away from him, careful not to tug the blankets off of Lucas’s body. The alarm stops when Jens taps the screen of his phone and Lucas nuzzles his face into the pillow, the hood that covers his curls hiding his face slightly. 

Jens smiles softly at him, holding back from pushing the hood away, and slowly gets up from the bed, gently placing the blankets next to Lucas, listening to his quiet huffs of breath and the muffled sounds of the city waking up outside, some cars, some voices. 

When he comes back from brushing his teeth in the bathroom, he catches Zoë in the hallway. He’s never seen her this early in the morning; even during the beach trip he’d only happened to see her around ten in the morning when everyone else had woken up and gotten dressed, when Zoë has put on her mascara and blush and lipstick, and whatever she put on that Jens doesn’t know about. Even in the dim light of the hallway, he can see that her bare face is quite lovely. 

“Good morning,” she whispers as he slips halfway into Lucas’s room, and he waves before she disappears into the dark in the direction of her room. It’s dim in Lucas’s room, but light even for Jens to see without turning on the light. He doesn’t change his pants, staying in the same sweatpants that he put on yesterday after ballet, grey with rolled cuffs and pockets, and then he catches sight of a hoodie tossed onto Lucas’s desk chair. Even in the dark, he recognizes it, a soft pastel purple hoodie that too big on Lucas, probably a perfect fit for Jens. It has old paint stains, varying shades of browns and reds, on the lower sleeves and on the lower hem, which Jens assumes are from Lucas absentmindedly wiping paint-covered fingers on the fabric, or leaning over a canvas and resting an arm on it. 

As he’s pulling it on over the long sleeve t-shirt he slept in, he hears a quiet, muffled noise, and he turns, pulling the hoodie over his face. Lucas is watching him, his face half-covered by the blanket, but Jens can see that he’s smiling from the way his eyes are squinted, the corners crinkling with suppressed laughter. 

“What?” Jens says quietly, trying not to laugh back. 

“You’re stealing from me?” 

“Yeah,” Jens says, nodding, raising an eyebrow. _Obviously._ He adjusts the hem on his waist. He was right. It fits perfectly. He steps closer to the bed and Lucas lowers the blanket, revealing his smile (Jens’s heart swells), lifting his chin slightly. Jens falls to his knees next to the bed, resting his forearms on the edge of it and leaning over until their lips press together. Lucas’s fingers twist Jens’s hair and he sighs and Jens bites his lip gently. 

When they pull back, Jens touches his face, brushing over his cheekbones before resting on his chin. 

“You’re talking to the guys today, right?” Lucas asks quietly, and Jens nods, taking a deep breath. 

“Yeah. And I think I’m gonna come out to the girls too. I’m walking with Zoë so… Might as well.”

“If you want to,” Lucas whispers, smiling as he pulls Jens in for another kiss. 

“Hey,” Jens says softly when he pulls away again, looking at Lucas, who hums sleepily. “Do you wanna tell Milan?” 

Lucas snorts, arching his back to stretch. 

“Do I wanna ask Milan…” he repeats sarcastically. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“He’s gonna lose his shit,” Lucas says, holding back a giggle, playing with Jens’s hair as Jens rests his chin on his forearms. Jens furrows his brows, smiling. “I told him I have a crush on you,” Lucas explains, and Jens’s smile grows until his eyes almost disappear. 

“You’ll have to tell him that we met before that get-together here,” Jens says. 

“I will,” Lucas reassures him, and pulls him in once again, tugging at his hair. Jens smiles as their mouths meet, letting Lucas’s tongue in, letting Lucas bite down on his lip softly, lazily. 

From the hallway, from the door that Jens left cracked open, Zoë’s voice calls quietly, “Jens! Time to go!” and Lucas groans quietly as Jens kisses him once more before standing. 

“Text me how it goes?” Lucas asks, his words slurring slightly, and Jens nods. 

“Text me how Milan reacts?” 

Lucas’s eyes drift shut as he chuckles almost silently. 

“Of course.” 

“Okay. I have practice again today but I’ll call you tonight.” 

“Mm. Good luck, baby,” Lucas mumbles. 

Jens grabs his bags from the floor at the foot of Lucas’s bed, swinging his backpack on before sliding the strap of his ballet bag around his shoulders. 

“I love you,” he says as he steps out the door, and he smiles when he hears a quiet, incomprehensible mumble in response. He lifts his head when he shuts the door, with both hands, as quiet as possible, and sees Zoë standing at the front door, holding it open with her foot, looking at him fondly. His face burns and he starts toward her but she lifts a hand, holding a granola bar. 

“Catch.” 

He does, fumbling with it before catching it in the air by his knees, and Zoë claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide and grinning. 

\--- 

“So,” Zoë says as they head down the sidewalk. “How long have you guys been together?”

Jens sighs, feeling the chill of the brisk air in his lungs, and furrows his brows, smiling, as he thinks, looking up at the lightening sky. 

“Uhm… I don’t know.”

“You _don’t know_?” Zoë repeats, turning to look at him as they pass a telephone pole. She stumbles slightly, the rubber of her sneakers catching on the rough gravel, and he reaches out with an arm as they both laugh at the absurdity. She grabs his arm, hooking her hand on his elbow, and continues giggling, shaking her head. 

“How on earth can you not know?” 

Jens reaches around and grabs his ballet bag, moving it so it’s behind his body, so she has room to walk by his side without the bag bumping her with every step. 

“You know, it was really unclear.” 

“You getting together?” 

“Yeah,” he says, glancing down at her as they cross the street. “I don’t know when exactly it happened, but.... Maybe a few weeks ago?” 

She shakes her head again, smiling. 

“How did you guys meet?” she asks after a few seconds. 

“You know what…” He bumps his shoulder into hers and she adjusts her grip on his arm. “I’m not gonna tell you yet.” 

“What? Why?” 

“I’ll tell you when I tell the other girls. I think you’re gonna like the story, though.” 

“Well now I’m just mad,” she says, her bright smile contradicting her words, “because now I’m even more curious.”

“Good. I’m keeping you on the edge of your seat.” 

“I’m gonna fall off.” 

Jens giggles, feeling Zoë’s shoulder shake next to him as he reaches up to catch the strap of his backpack. 

She holds his arm the whole way to school and after they arrive, despite the confused looks the girls give them, eight eyes looking at him. It’s really no different than usual, but he feels like their eyes are burning into him, reading every minute detail on his face. It feels like he doesn’t even have to say anything. Jens feels his face burn, even though he knows _It’s just my friends_. All of them stand in a sort of circle that Jens feels like he’s at the centre of, and Zoë lets go, and he can feel the absence, the spot on his arm that her hand was suddenly cold. 

“Hey,” he says awkwardly. He glances to Zoë, who’s turned to face him like the others, and she gives him a small smile with a subtle tilt of her head, encouraging. “So, uhm…” His eyes scan in front of him, going from girl to girl, their raised, confused eyebrows. He stops at Jana, whatever words he was going to say suddenly stuck in his throat. 

She gives him a sort of shrug, lifting one shoulder slightly before dropping it and shaking her head, raising an eyebrow. 

“What’s up?” Luca asks, and Jens’s gaze jumps to her like he’s startled. 

“I—” His voice catches and he clears his throat before trying again. “I have to, uh, to tell you something.” 

“All of us?” Amber asks in a small voice, glancing from Jens to Jana and then back. 

“Yeah, it’s— it’s not, uhm…” He trails off again, unsure of how to say what needs to be said. 

“Jens,” Zoë says in a firm but gentle voice. “Just say it.”

“I— I’m bi,” he says finally, his eyes still stuck on her, on her nodding head. “And I have a boyfriend.” 

“Oh!” Jana exclaims, her head jerking back in surprise before a grin overtakes her face. “Oh, cool!” 

There’s a second, a pause, and then a half-smile forms on his own face. 

“Congratulations, Jens,” Yasmina, says, reaching out and hitting his arm lightly with a sweet smile on her face. Her head tilts like Zoë’s, the hood of her sweatshirt folding at the neck, where it’s tied with the strings in place of her hijab. He smiles back, feeling his face flush. His shoulders lift unconsciously as his hands tuck into his pockets. 

“Who is it?” Amber asks enthusiastically, looking like she’s ready to start bouncing up and down. “Who’s your boyfriend?” 

“Uh, Milan’s cousin,” he says, dropping his shoulders and laughing a little bit. 

“ _What?_ ” Amber says, her jaw dropping as she grins. “How the fuck…?”

“Milan’s _cousin_?” Jana interrupts, grinning, and Jens nods. “He must be happy.” 

“I actually don’t know, we haven’t told him yet.” He ignores their scandalized expressions and Lucas’s cackle. “Lucas is telling him today and he’s gonna tell me how he reacts.” 

“Wait, so they’re both the gay cousin?” Luca says, cocking her head. 

“Uh… Yeah, I guess. I hadn’t really thought about that.” 

“Huh.” She looks away for a second. “I’m the only one in my family.”

She’s met with silence. 

“Wait—” Amber says, blinking and holding up a hand. 

“Are you seriously upstaging my coming out right now?” Jens asks, suppressing another grin, and she shrugs. 

“Eh. Saw the opportunity and took it.”

“Okay, Luca, give us all a second to respond to that,” Zoë says as Jens holds his hand out and Luca fist bumps him. “Someone please ask how they met!” she bursts, and Jens snorts, having forgotten about her desperation to know. 

“Jens, how did you and your boyfriend meet?” Yasmina asks, taking pity on Zoë.

“So…” He takes a deep breath and steps back. “This is what I didn’t tell you,” he says, looking at Zoë. “I’ve told the guys but uhm… it’s been a long time coming.” 

They all stare at him patiently, looking like they’re hanging onto his every word. Amber’s head is tilted toward him, her chin dropped slightly, as though he’s sharing a big secret. (Though, he supposes, he is.) 

“We met outside my dance studio,” he says finally, an awkward smile fighting its way onto his face. 

“Huh?” Luca says. 

“Yeah.” 

“Come again?” Yasmina says, tilting her head. 

Jens inhales again, his shoulders coming up into an uncomfortable shrug, and then he exhales sharply, pulling his duffel bag in front of himself, deftly unzipping it and digging around, under the clothes and water bottles, under the small towel and the plastic bag full of bandages and tape for his toes, feeling his face heat up red under all their eyes, until his hands find the pointe shoes, grabbing them where their ribbon laces are tied together and pulling up, out, and then in the air in front of himself, watching their eyes move from him to the shoes. 

“Ta-da,” he says weakly. 

When he gets no response (except a confused “Uhm?” from Yasmina), he clarifies, “These are mine.” 

“Those are yours…” Jana says, the gears turning in her head. 

“These are mine, yeah.” 

“ _Huh?_ ” Lucas says again. 

“Okay…” He shoves the shoes back into his bag and fishes his phone out of him pocket, his face heating again as he feels their eyes on him. 

Finally, he finds what he’s searching for, and he holds the phone out where the shoes hung from his hands, where they can all see, and he watches their faces, hearing the audio from the video slightly over the sounds of other students around them, bustling and talking and laughing just barely overtaking the sound of Lucas laughing. 

He smiles as they watch it, remembering the day it was taken. 

It was just a few days ago. Lucas had come over to hang out and insisted that it was fine if Jens wanted to practice while he was there. It had resulted in this: a video of Jens doing pirouettes and Lucas giggling to himself as he records. The video ends with Jens realising why he’s giggling and turning, laughing, to smack the phone out of his hand.

“So you do ballet?” Jana says when the video ends, and Jens nods, putting the phone back in his pocket. 

“Since I was little, yeah.” 

“But…” She gives a small shrug. “How did I never know?” 

“Well,” he says, not wanting to give it away before she figures it out, “I usually practice once a week unless I have a recital coming up.” 

“Once a week…” she repeats. 

“How big are your classes?” Zoë asks before realization can hit Jana’s face, and Jens looks at her. 

“Uh, not too big, maybe fifteen, twenty people? I only have three actual friends from it and we don’t hang out that often outside of practice.” 

“Once a week!” Jana exclaims, stepping forward and hitting Jens’s chest, and he looks back at her, laughing. 

“Yeah, every…” he says, nodding and grinning. 

“Thursday…” she says slowly, her smile growing, and slapping his chest again, playfully aggressive. 

“What’s happening right now?” Yasmina asks, looking back and forth between them. 

“Every fucking _Thursday_ —” she hits him one last time— “Jens would disappear and none of us knew where he was going.” 

“And he was going to ballet practice,” Amber says, her voice light and awestruck. Jens smiles at her, nodding. “That was _graceful_ ,” she adds. 

“That’s what Aaron said,” he replies, cocking his head and smiling fondly. 

“So you met… what’s his name again?” Luca asks. 

“Lucas.” 

“So you met Lucas outside your dance studio?” 

“Yeah, one Thursday I was leaving the studio and I saw a boy, and I thought he was cute, he thought I was cute…” he trails off, gesturing vaguely with a hand before stuffing it into the pocket of his, Lucas’s, hoodie. 

“Damn…” Luca says. “Maybe I should take up dance, find myself a cute lady.”

Before Jens can say anything, he’s interrupted by a loud squeal, and Amber grabs him and Luca in a bear hug, bouncing up and down excitedly. Jens laughs, wrapping his arms around the two of them, hearing Luca let out a shout of surprise before she begins to shake with laughter too. 

“I am so proud of both of you,” Amber says when she pulls away, looking into his eyes intensely and then looking to Luca. He nods, smiling brightly as he looks up over her shoulder to Jana and then Zoë, who smiles almost proudly. 

“I love you so much,” Amber says quickly, nearly shouting, as she pulls him back into a hug, rocking back and forth. 

“I love you so much too,” Jens says, squeezing her and Luca, ignoring how uncomfortable the straps of his bags feel. 

“Jens, I don’t want to interrupt but…” Zoë says, and Jens looks up to see her looking at her watch. “You have to talk… to the guys, don’t you?” 

“Uh, yeah,” he says, squeezing them one more time before letting go. Luca reaches up and ruffles his hair and he makes a face at her. “I’ll see you guys later.” 

Yasmina holds a hand out and Jens slaps their palms together, holding on for a second and she squeezes, smiling softly at him. 

“Oh, I wanted to see a picture of Lucas…” Amber says as she steps away from Jens. 

“I have pictures of him, don’t worry,” Zoë says, quickly hugging Jens and nodding at Amber. 

“You do?” Amber asks, confused. 

“I live with him, Amber.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

“Later, Jens,” Luca calls out as Jens starts to walk away, and he turns around, walking backwards, to wave at them. 

He makes his way across the courtyard until he catches sight of the guys. Moyo is leaning against a fence, looking around, people-watching, as Aaron holds his phone out for Robbe to look at. None of them seems to be really present in the conversation. Moyo sees him first, straightening and coming off the fence when he sees Jens coming toward them, his eyes widening and his mouth opening like he’s trying to say something. 

Jens tries for a small smile, but he thinks it might look more like a grimace. 

“Hey,” he says when he’s close enough that they can all hear him. 

Robbe looks up from Aaron’s phone and smiles, trying to look bright. Aaron stuffs his phone into his pocket, glancing to Moyo and Robbe before looking at Jens steadily, warily. 

“Jens—” Moyo starts, but Jens stops him, shaking his head and holding up a hand. 

“No, it’s fine,” he says, trying again for a smile. “I’m not… I—I freaked out yesterday, but it’s…” 

He shrugs, shoving his hand back into his pocket. They’re quiet. Awkward. Aaron sighs. Robbe’s eyes don’t come off Jens. 

“So you guys are… aware…” he says, trying to ease the awkwardness unsuccessfully. 

“Yes,” Moyo says, and Jens snickers at the ground before looking up to see Moyo’s eyes shining back at him. 

“Uhm… yeah. We’ve been… seeing each other for a while now.”

“So you’re bi?” Aaron asks. 

“Yeah.” Jens huffs, trying to relax his shoulders. “I never told you guys because, I didn’t really know until Lucas, or—” He shifts, shuffling a foot on the concrete he stands on, and he looks up to the sky, trying to sort his thoughts into words. The sky is blue. Cotton-candy blue, Lucas would say. “I think I knew and I just… never really acknowledged it until Lucas. It never mattered until him.” 

They nod. 

“And then I didn’t tell you guys about us because I just didn’t really want anything to change, I guess. Like, I wasn’t scared, it was just…” He shrugs. 

“Things did change when I came out,” Robbe says.

“For the better,” Moyo adds. 

Jens bites his lip, nodding, and he looks away, to the ground. 

“I know.”

“You and Lucas are cute together,” Aaron says, grinning. 

“Thanks, Aaron.” 

“It’s his Instagram, isn’t it?” Moyo asks, and Jens nods, pressing his lips together. “I’m still going to follow it, don’t worry,” Moyo says hastily. “It just makes sense.” 

“Uhm…” Jens takes another deep breath, scratching the back of his neck. “There was something else I was going to ask you guys.” 

It’s something he’d talked about with Lucas, something that was his own idea, though Lucas seemed more excited about it than he was. 

“What?” Robbe asks, and Jens hesitates for a second before asking. 

“Would you guys want to come to my next recital?”

Immediately, their faces light up and Aaron gasps loudly. 

“Yeah!” Moyo exclaims. 

Jens halts, them, holding up a _wait a minute_ finger. 

“It’s _formal_ ,” he says. “So you need to look nice, you know, wear a jacket.” 

“I don’t have a jacket,” Aaron says, deflating, looking forlorn. 

“I have one you can borrow,” Moyo says. “Just don’t get it dirty.” 

“You have a formal jacket?” Robbe says, looking at Moyo and furrowing his brows, smiling confusedly. 

“I’m classy as fuck, bro.” 

“Clearly.”

“So that’s a yes?” Jens says before Moyo can get in a retort. 

“That’s a _hell_ yes,” Aaron says. “I’m so excited.” 

“Is Lucas going too?” Robbe asks. 

“Uh, yeah.” Jens scratches the back of his neck before running his hands through his hair. 

“Does your mom know about you guys?” Moyo asks. 

“Uh, no.” 

“No pressure.” Moyo raises his hands in a surrendering gesture and Jens laughs. 

When the bell rings, Moyo has his arm around Jens’s shoulders in a casual embrace, and they head to the entrance of the school. As they enter, Jens catches Zoë’s eye and shoots her a thumbs up and a grin, and she holds up her hands, curved into a heart. 

He smiles. 

His heart feels a little lighter.


	32. I Like This One

Lucas drifts off after Jens leaves, after hearing the front door shut behind him and Zoë. He’s anxious for him, knowing how nervous he must be. 

There’s a strange silence after the door shuts, an empty, lonely silence. As he buries his face into the pillow, pulling the blanket up over his face (it smells like Jens), he thinks maybe he’s somehow just never realised how quiet the flat really is. He usually isn’t up this early, and even when he stays up late, he tends to have his headphones on, or he’s on the phone with Jens, the two of them whispering and giggling to each other. But in the early morning, the air in his room chilly outside the thick blanket on top of him, it’s _quiet_. 

He can hear his own heart beating, can feel his pulse in his wrists on his neck, can hear his own breaths. It feels like something is missing. At first, he thinks it could be a noise, any noise, maybe rain or wind, or noise that he usually wakes up to, like Milan playing music from the kitchen or Senne walking past his room. (Though he’s fairly certain that Senne left early this morning for classes.) 

Lucas moves the blanket off of his face and lets the cold air wash over his face. He sighs, opening his eyes for a second before letting them fall closed again, rolling over and tucking the blanket under his chin, curling into himself, his knees drawing to his chin. The sweater he has on is light, and even under the blanket, he shivers. 

He realises what he’s missing. 

After Jens came back to bed after talking to Zoë, Lucas had immediately drawn him in, pulling him close and feeling his arms wrap around him, his face press to Lucas’s chest, his legs entwine with Lucas’s. They spent the whole night like that, tangled together. It was warm. 

Eventually, Lucas drifts off. He doesn’t know when or how, especially with his shivering and restlessness, but he wakes up to Milan’s music quietly playing from the kitchen. Lucas opens his eyes, rolling onto his back and stretching, and sighs. 

Then he grins. 

He throws the blanket off of himself, getting up from the bed, stopping for a second after standing up too fast, and then grabs a pair of sweatpants from the floor, stumbling as he pulls them on while heading to the door. 

Milan is dancing by himself, swaying his hips as he flips a pancake at the stove, and Lucas pauses in the doorway, trying to push the smile off his face before going in. 

“Good morning,” he says, a little more brightly than he intended. 

“Morning, lovely,” Milan responds, turning slightly to shoot him a smile over his shoulder, reaching across the counter and turning down the music. “How are you doing today?” 

“Uhm, I’m good,” Lucas says, understating the condition of his heart at the moment. “And you?” he asks as he sits on the table, setting his feet on the chair in front of him. He pulls the sleeves of his sweater down over his hands, bunching them up in his fists. 

“I’m having a very good morning, very chill. Maybe it’s because Senne isn’t here,” Milan teases, and Lucas snorts. 

“I’m gonna tell him you said that.” 

“He wouldn’t be surprised.” 

Lucas chuckles lightly, watching as Milan flips a pancake before taking it off the pan and setting it on a plate, on top of a pile of pancakes Lucas hadn’t noticed. 

“That’s a lot of pancakes,” he says, trying not to laugh. 

“I’m making a lot so Zoë and Senne can have some when they get home,” Milan says, carefully ladling some batter onto the pan. 

“Kind of you.” 

“If they’re not grateful, I’m eating all of them.” 

“What about me?” 

“You can have some, I guess.” 

“Thanks.” 

Milan sets the ladle in the bowl and turns to look at Lucas, who has to push another smile off his face. Milan puts his hands on his back, resting it against the counter. 

“You’re shiny today,” he says matter-of-factly. 

Lucas raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, confused. 

“Your spirit,” Milan clarifies. “It’s shiny.”

The smile finally breaks through and Lucas has to look away, grinning as he shrugs, trying to be nonchalant. 

“What’s going on?” Milan asks suspiciously, narrowing his eyes. “You’re up to something.” 

“Uhm…” Lucas sighs, twisting his mouth to the side, trying to figure out to tell him. “There’s something I need to tell you.” 

“Okay…” His eyes narrow more and he turns his head. “Is it good or bad? I’m assuming good because you can’t stop smiling.” 

“Good. Definitely good.” 

“Okay, tell me.” He crosses his arms, an apprehensive smile forming on his face.

Lucas sighs again, grinning, and looks away, leaning back. 

“You’re gonna hate me and love me,” he says. 

“Oh my god, just tell me!” Milan says, laughing.

“Uhm…” 

“ _Lucas_!”

“Jens and I are dating,” he bursts. 

“ _What—_ ”

“And we’ve been together for a while, we met before the get together where I met all the guys, but he wasn’t out, and he wasn’t ready, so we just pretended—” 

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Milan interrupts, waving his hands and closing his eyes like he’s clearing the air. “Start over.”

Lucas giggles, feeling his face heat up under Milan’s gaze. He adjusts his seat on the table, turning more in Milan’s direction. 

“So—” 

“Wait, you guys already knew each other?” 

“...Yeah.” 

“I don’t get credit for this?” 

“No, I’m sorry.”

Milan let out a disappointed “Ah,” and turns away, seemingly distraught, before grinning and running his hands through his hair. 

“Oh my god,” he says in a high-pitched voice, almost a squeal. “I’m so happy for you guys.” 

Lucas beams, his shoulders lifting into a bashful shrug, but they drop when he hears sizzling. 

“Milan, your pancake is burning.” 

“Oh, shit.” Milan turns around, quickly grabbing the spatula and flipping it over. “That’s fine, we can give that one to Senne.” Lucas rolls his eyes. “Okay anyway, tell me everything. I want details.”

“Uh…” Lucas sighs, wondering where to start. “You know I like wandering around the city and taking photos and stuff…”

“Mm-hmm.” 

“One day I just stopped outside, like, a convenience store, and a bunch of people came out of the building next to it, and there was this one boy…” Lucas is smiling wistfully at the ground, reminiscing, remembering how _beautiful_ he was, standing there with his friends. “And we just kind of made eye contact…” He trails off, looking up to see that Milan has his back against the counter again, smiling at Lucas like he’s watching him take his first steps. Lucas lifts a hand, shrugging. 

“And that was it? That’s how you met?” He sets the pancake on the plate and turns back to look at Lucas. 

“Actually, he left and we didn’t say anything, so I kind of… went back there every day at the same time for a week, and—” 

“ _What?_ ” Milan cackles. 

“And,” Lucas continues, “eventually he was there again and we hung out.” 

“You went on a date that soon?” 

“Well it wasn’t really a date, we were just hanging out, but eventually he asked if I wanted to get coffee with him, and we just…” Lucas sighs, leaning his head back and grinning, his legs swinging happily. “And obviously we exchanged numbers and we call, like, every night. Except for the ones we spend together,” he adds, quieter, but he catches Milan’s head turn to him sharply. 

“Together?” Milan asks, raising his eyebrows and crossing his arms. “And when— when has this happened?” he asks like he’s interrogating Lucas, who laughs and scratches the back of his neck. 

“Last night…” 

“Wha— I did not approve of this!” 

“Milan, I’m seventeen. And he’s my boyfriend.” 

He doesn’t respond, crossing one arm over his waist and covering a growing smile with his other hand, setting his chin on his palm. 

“Your boyfriend,” he says fondly. 

“My boyfriend,” Lucas agrees, nodding. 

“Who made the first move?” Milan asks after they spend a second just smiling. 

“Me,” Lucas says, laughing. “I asked him to hang out, and I kissed him first. But then he kissed me.” He thinks for a second. “He said ‘I love you’ first.” 

“He said—” Milan squeaks, slapping a hand over his mouth and sighing. 

Lucas grins, kicking his feet in front of himself. 

“Can I have a pancake?” he asks after a second, and Milan drops his hand.

“Oh, sure,” he says, turning and grabbing one from the plate. He tosses it to Lucas and Lucas just barely catches it, the tips of his fingers snatching in the air before it can fall to the ground. He hears Milan chuckle to himself and he looks up, furrowing his brows and jutting out his chin. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know,” Milan says, still laughing to himself, and he turns back to the griddle, lifting the ladle from the bowl of batter. He carefully pours some in a circle, smiling at the sizzling. “You said you wanted one.” 

“On a _plate_ , dumbass.” 

“Just be grateful.” 

Lucas makes a face at him even though he isn’t looking and takes a bite out of it. 

“Is it good?” Milan asks. 

“It’s definitely a pancake.”

\--- 

Lucas doesn’t remember to tell Senne about everything until Jens is already knocking on the door. It’s been days since Lucas told Milan, who’s hassled him every chance since, “When is Jens coming over?” “Where’s your boyfriend?” “Do you spend any time with him at all?” Lucas has avoided telling him they haven’t seen each other much lately because Jens has been spending so much time practising and rehearsing for his recital. 

Lucas is excited about the recital. Since Jens asked him to go, every time he’s thought about it, his stomach has swooped like a roller coaster car. He’s even got his outfit out and ready for it, ready for when Lucas assumes he’ll wake up hours before he needs to, ready to meet with Robbe, Moyo, and Aaron tomorrow evening before the recital. 

“Who’s that?” Senne asks at the same time as Milan’s gasp, and Lucas pauses on his way to the door. 

“Uh… You’ll see.” 

Lucas catches Milan sending Senne a broad grin and shakes his head before leaving to the front door. 

“Hey, beautiful,” Jens says when Lucas swings the door open. 

“Hi,” Lucas says back, immediately stepping close and falling into him, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips before letting his head fall to Jens’s neck. Jens wraps his arms around him, swaying slightly and sighing. 

“Okay?” Jens asks, and Lucas hums, kissing his neck briefly. 

“Uhm,” he says when he stands up straight, tugging at Jens’s jacket, pulling him inside and out of the brisk afternoon air. “Milan is very excited to see you.”

“God, I love Milan.” 

“I know. He loves you too.” 

“It’s a good thing he does,” Jens says, taking off his jacket and hanging it up next to the door. “I don’t know what I’d do if he didn’t.” 

“Come on,” Lucas says after laughing lightly, grabbing Jens’s hand and pulling him down the hall into the living room. Jens lifts their hands and twirls him, dropping his arm over Lucas’s shoulder and leaning close to kiss his temple. 

“Hi,” Jens says as they enter the living room, his face brightening ups seeing Milan lounged across the sofa, his legs across Senne’s lap. 

“Hey!” Senne exclaims, surprised. He drops his phone and lifts a hand, pointing at them, a silent question hanging in the air. _Are you…?_

“Yeah,” Jens says, pulling Lucas in closer and kissing his head. Lucas’s face flushes and he smiles, wrapping his arms around Jens’s waist. 

“You’re so cute,” Milan says, and he turns where he’s laying, twisting his back and lifting his phone to take a picture. Jens lifts a peace sign and Lucas hides his face in Jens’s chest. “What are you doing this fine evening?” Milan asks after lowering his phone. 

“Hanging out,” Jens says, looking down at Lucas. “Getting ready for tomorrow.” 

“What’s tomorrow?” Senne asks, still smiling. 

“I have a ballet recital,” Jens says simply. “Lucas is helping me prepare.” 

“Am I?”

“Yeah, so I don’t have, like, an anxiety attack because I’m… stressed.”

“Oh, okay.” Lucas drops his head against Jens’s chest. 

“A ballet recital?” Senne says, his expression identical to Milan’s, their brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Yeah, I got the solo this year.” (Lucas grins proudly.) “I’ve been practising every day for the past few weeks and now I just need to…” He sighs. “Chill.” 

Lucas lets go of his waist and grabs his hand again, walking backwards out of the room and pulling Jens with him. 

“Ohhh…” Senne says, watching them with a sly smile. He calls, “Be safe!” as they turn the corner, out of sight, and Lucas leans back in to make a face and lift his middle finger to him. He can still hear his and Milan’s giggling as Jens shuts his bedroom door behind them. 

“Hi,” he says again as Jens pulls him in, slipping his fingers into his hair as their mouths meet, their lips part, their tongues press together. Jens hums lowly, sliding his hands over Lucas’s waist, under his pale blue hoodie and pressing against his skin. His fingers are cold. 

“I have a question,” Jens says when they part, after a quiet gasp. 

“Mm-hmm?” 

There’s a beat of silence before he asks. 

“Will you paint my nails for tomorrow?”

Lucas pulls his face away, looking into Jens’s eyes in surprise. 

“You want me to paint your nails?”

“Yeah, I mean…” He trails off, looking away, his cheeks turning pink. “I always thought it would be nice for a recital. And most of the girls do, so I figured…” He looks back at him. “Why not?” 

“Do you know what colour you want?” Lucas asks, starting to smile. Jens shrugs, tilting his head at Lucas and letting his arms gently drape around his waist. 

“Something dark, if you have it. It’ll go with what I’m wearing.” 

“Yeah,” Lucas says, kissing him once more before letting his arms fall from his neck and stepping back. “You still haven’t told me what you’re wearing,” he says as he grabs the red box of nail polish by the handle, lifting it and setting it on his desk. He shoots Jens a look, one eyebrow raised, as he opens its and begins rummaging through, finding all the dark bottles. 

“It’s a surprise.” 

Lucas scoffs, letting a bottle of black fall into the box with a clatter, remembering it’s gone dry and clumpy. 

“Robbe says you’re going to love it, though,” Jens continues. He crosses the room from where he was standing and sits on Lucas’s bed, cross-legged and watching him fondly. 

“So you’ve shown Robbe but not me?” 

“Mhmm.” Lucas glances up and Jens is nodding, smiling. “He says you’re going to love it,” he repeats. 

“I mean, I believe him.” 

“Good. I think you’ll love it too.” 

“Oh?” Lucas tilts his head, raising his eyebrows and pressing his lips together. “I’m excited.” He smiles when he hears Jens giggling. Lucas rolls his eyes and shakes his head and he cracks the window open and turns on the small fan on his desk.

He makes his way to the bed with several bottles of polish in hand, sitting across from Jens, mirroring him, his legs crossed. 

“Okay, these are all the good ones.” 

“Why did you just bring the box over so you can put the ones we don’t use away?” 

Lucas stares at the bottles in his hand before looking up sharply. 

“Don’t question me.” 

“Okay,” Jens says, snickering as he takes the bottles from Lucas’s hand and analyzing them in the light coming from the window. Lucas rests an elbow on his knee, putting his chin in the palm of his hand and watching Jens fondly, how his brows draw in as he looks, how he lifts them closer to his face, how he turns them in his hands to see how the colours shift. 

“I think I like this one,” Jens says softly, disrupting Lucas’s thoughts. He holds up a cylindrical bottle, the polish dark purple with subtle blue sparkles. Lucas smiles and holds his hand out for it and when he has it, Jens turns, leaning backwards, and places the rest of the bottles on Lucas’s bedside table, carefully standing them all up. Lucas smiles, watching. 

“Okay,” Jens says, huffing slightly as he sits straight again. He holds his hands out, palms down, and looks up at Lucas hesitantly. 

“Ready?” Lucas asks, hitting the bottle against the palm of his left hand. Jens watches curiously and nods, looking up and smiling softly.

“They’re going to be wet for a while; anything you want to get out of the way first?” he asks, looking at Jens with a knowing shine in his eye, and Jens grins, leaning across their crossed legs and grabbing Lucas’s face, sliding his fingers over his cheeks and jaw and neck until they’re buried in his hair. His teeth capture Lucas’s lower lip and Lucas smiles, closing his eyes and dropping the bottle (still closed) into his lap as he holds Jens’s wrists, leaning closer when Jens starts to pull away.

He reaches up and presses his palms to Jens’s cheeks, feeling the lingering twinge of cold on his cheekbones and moves closer, feelings Jens’s breath against his slicked lips when Jens pulls back to gasp before leaning in again. 

Lucas’s legs uncross and he moves closer, his legs moving to either side of Jens, moving closer, closer, closer, until their chests are nearly pressing together. Jens’s hands move from his hair to his shoulders, pulling him in before he wraps his arms around Lucas’s neck. Lucas gently tugs at his hair, revelling in the small sound that escapes from Jens’s throat. 

They pull away with gasps, and Lucas leans in and presses their foreheads together, smiling. 

“I love you,” Jens whispers breathlessly, and Lucas bites his lip, closing his eyes again as he smiles and runs his hands through his hair. 

Jens says it every chance he gets now, every time they hang up, say goodbye. Every time Lucas texts him _I have to go, I’ll text you later_ , Jens responds with something like _okay I love you <3_. Every time there’s a pause between their kisses or a moment of silence as they hold each other, the words are there, whispered in the air. 

And Lucas always says it back. 

“I love you too,” he says, pulling away and pressing a kiss to Jens’s forehead. He lets go of his hair and picks up the bottle again as Jens’s arms pull away from his neck. The chilled air from outside hits Lucas’s neck and he shivers slightly, trying to pull the hood of his hoodie over his head with one hand. Jens smiles, reaching up and doing it for him. 

“Thank you,” Lucas says bashfully, opening the bottle of polish, and Jens holds his hand out, tucking the other in his lap. After carefully placing the bottle in his lap, Lucas takes his hand, gently stabilizing his fingers. “This might need two or three coats… Yeah,” Lucas says, stroking the brush against his nail, leaving a pale, translucent shade of purple in its wake. Jens leans forward, tilting his head to see around Lucas’s (he doesn’t realise how close he leans to focus), and smiles. 

When the polish is on properly, after Lucas has expertly wiped it off of the skin around Jens’s nails, Jens leaves his hands on Lucas’s thighs, trying not to move them. They’re not quite dry, just slightly tacky, and Lucas pulls his lips away from Jens’s every time they shift.


	33. Colliding

Lucas has a habit that Jens loves. 

When he’s thinking or focusing, he rubs the polish on his nails. Usually, it’s when he’s drawing or painting, Jens has noticed. He’ll take a step back or lean back and look at the paper or canvas, his brows drawn together, his eyes intense, souring, his lips almost pouting in concentration, and unless he’s holding pencils or brushes (sometimes several in one hand), his hands will draw together and his fingers will run the shiny polish on one of his nails until he leans back in and continues working.

It’s endearing, and Jens smiles every time he sees him doing it. He doesn’t think Lucas realises he’s doing it. 

Jens doesn’t realise he does it himself until he’s backstage, stretching, and he has to stop rubbing his nail to reach over his extended legs. He smiles to himself when he realises, despite his nerves.

It’s dim, which probably isn’t helping his anxiety. Neither is the bustle of the backstage, dancers quickly changing costumes, chatting idly as they strip their leotards and skirts and `smooth down their hair. He can feel his heartbeat, speeding in his veins as he stands and stretches his back, trying to slow his breathing to go with the piano music playing. He can see through the wings, seeing dancers fly through the air and spin across the stage, and he shakes his hands like they’re wet, jumping up and down slightly, trying to relax. 

When he takes a slight step to his left, he can see the audience, just a sliver. He knows how many people are there, knows how many seats are filled, but his breath still stutters in his throat. He shakes his head and steps back, looking away and inhaling deeply. 

Lucas is out there somewhere. And Moyo. And Aaron. And Robbe. And Sander (who texted Jens to make sure it was okay if he came). And Lotte. And his mom. He doubts they’re all sitting together, though, as it’s not like Lotte and the guys are best friends. (Though Lotte and Lucas do get along well every time they talk. But Lucas hasn’t met his mom yet. They could meet tonight, he supposes, but that just sents another jolt through his heart, causes another swoop in his stomach, and he shakes the thought away. One worry at a time.) 

He also knows there are some ballet hotshots somewhere in the audience as well. They’re probably why Cecile is so anxious tonight too. She almost seems more rushed than the dancers changing costumes, giving instructions and refreshing some dancers on their routines. Her hair is up in a messy bun, messier than usual, that it, with strands messily tucked behind her ears and falling in front of her eyes rather than gracefully framing her face. When she catches Jens’s eye she sends him a thumbs up and a radiant smile, bright as the spotlights, and he grins back, but it drops off his face as soon as she looks away. 

He finds himself rubbing the nail polish again, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He rocks back and forth on his feet (ignoring the discomfort caused by his pointe shoes), and listens to the music. 

“Hey, babe,” Lena’s voice says, and Jens opens his eyes, seeing her come close. She’s beaming, her eyes wrinkling at the corners, distorting the precise wings of eyeliner that sparkle as light from the stage falls on her. “You ready? You’re up soon.”

Jens nods, shaking his hands again and she steps up close. 

“Come here,” she says, reaching up and holding his face between her hands. Her skirt presses against his legs but he ignores it, bending slightly so their foreheads press together and closing his eyes. She takes in a deep breath and he copies her, pressing his hands to his legs to stop their shaking before they take another together. 

“You’re good,” she says, taking her head away but still holding his face. 

He nods.

“Say it. You’re good.” 

“I’m good,” he says, smiling weakly. 

“You’re gonna do amazing,” she says, nodding encouragingly. When he’s quiet, she shakes his head, making his laugh. 

“I’m gonna do amazing,” he whispers. 

“Yes, you are.” She leans up and kisses his forehead before letting go, and he smiles at her. “And in _this?_ ” She runs a finger down his chest, over the mesh shirt he’s wearing, tickling him, and he giggles, pushing her away. “You said Lucas is here tonight right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Baby boy is going to be _steaming_ by the time you’re done.” 

“Shut up, Lena.” He can feel his face heating up.

“I’m right.” 

He rolls his eyes, shaking his head. 

“Jens, you’re up!” a girl’s voice says, and Jens startles, looking at her. “Come on!” 

Lena slaps his arm, pushing him forward. 

“Go get ‘em, tiger,” she says, and Jens grins nervously. 

**LUCAS**

Lucas has had a passionate love for ballet since meeting Jens. 

He knew close to nothing about ballet, except for the bare minimum knowledge about pointe shoes, but he loves listening to Jens talk about it. He gets so enthusiastic, so animated. His eyes get bright and sparkly and he talks with his hands, gesturing and demonstrating as Lucas watches fondly, his chin in his hands. 

He understands why he loves it so much. 

It’s fucking beautiful.

And when Jens practices, he gets completely peaceful. Sometimes his eyes close. 

Lucas told him that when he dances, he’s making art, and he meant it. He can see it in his face. He looks the way Lucas feels when he paints. 

Lucas is anxious for Jens’s performance. 

He’s excited to see him dance, to _really_ dance, to let loose and bear his soul, to see how he lets that part of himself take over completely. 

Jens has talked to Lucas about it. 

“It feels like I always have to hold back. Except when I’m on stage.’ 

Lucas is also nervous, mainly because he knows Jens is nervous. Jens had called him before the recital started, before Lucas had shut off his phone. The guys had all been standing outside, and Aaron was jokingly hitting on Sander, telling him how handsome he looked. 

“I’m nervous,” Jens had said almost immediately after Lucas had answered.

“That’s okay,” he responded, shoving Moyo playfully. “You’re going to be amazing, baby.” 

“I’m still nervous.” 

And Lucas is too. 

He rubs the polish on his thumb nail as he moves leans back into his seat, watching as the dark curtains draw together. He takes a deep breath. The program says Jens is next. 

He can sense the guys grinning in anticipation, but he doesn’t turn to look at them: Sander right next to him, then Robbe (holding Sander’s hand), then Moyo, then Aaron. Lucas’s gaze remains trained on the curtains, the velvety fabric still shifting slightly after drawing closed. 

Then they start to open. 

Lucas leans forward, letting go of his nail, setting his elbows on his knees. He doesn’t see Sander elbow Robbe and gesture to him, both of them smiling fondly. 

When the curtains come to a stop, a light comes on, shining on the stage.

On Jens.

Even from his seat in the audience, Lucas can see the smoky black makeup winging off his eyelids, no doubt carefully smudged there by Lena, the mesh, netted long sleeve shirt that just covers his skin, the black leggings, the shine of his black pointe shoes. Lucas can see the muscles of his chest and arms move as he begins to dance. For a second, Lucas forgets that there’s music, and when he remembers, he doesn’t bother paying attention to it. It has nothing on Jens. 

He dances. 

He dances, and dances, and dances.

When he leaps, he leaps higher than Lucas thought possible. 

There’s a smile on his face the whole time, a small, focused, relaxed smile, like the music is running through his veins. Lucas wonders for a second if that’s what he looks like when he paints. He feels Sander touch his leg for a second, a gentle, supportive rub on his knee, and Lucas sends him a glancing smile before looking back to the stage.

Jens dances. 

But when it feels like this is _him_ , something changes. He falters. 

He stops.

**JENS**

The music is still playing. 

It feels like the whole auditorium is paused, watching him carefully, holding their breaths. He can almost feel Cecile’s eyes on him. The lights on him are almost blinding. He can only see the silhouettes of the audience.

There are so many people. 

So many eyes.

All he can hear is Lucas’s voice.

_That’s why I like watching you dance._

_You’re making art._

There are so many people. 

So many eyes.

_They’re still exposing a little piece of their soul for the world to see._

_Hear._

_And that’s beautiful._

There are so many people.

So many eyes.

Watching.

Listening.

Jens isn’t saying what he needs to say.

**LUCAS**

Lucas has shifted to the edge of his seat, biting his lip with worry.

He wishes he could talk to him, whisper to him just so he could hear him. 

_It’s okay._

Keep going.

When he starts to move again, something is different.

He looks… 

Like Jens. 

Real. 

Like he’s exactly where he’s supposed to be. 

He makes it look effortless, flying across the stage and through the air, so peaceful and at ease he looks almost sleepy, looking like he’s moving in slow-motion mid-air. Swinging his arms in the air until he throws himself through it as the music crashes like thunder, and landing on the ground. Swinging up into an arabesque, fucking _effortlessly_ , like he’s swimming. A small hop with his arms raised before a leap and a flip in the air, landing on his feet before turning on his feet, spinning and spinning and spinning until his body slows and his back arches, and he falls. 

There isn’t a second of hesitation in him, not a single cell that’s out of place. 

It’s like he’s breathing and the whole world is breathing with him.

**JENS**

The music speeds up and Jens keeps up with it. 

He’s tired. But exhilarated. 

He feels real.

He feels alive. 

He takes up the whole stage, spinning in the air until he’s on the other side. He can feel that the gel in his hair isn’t holding, feeling his hair whip across his face and fall as he lands. 

He dances. 

He exists.

And exists.

And exists.

And exists.

And when the music finally comes to a stop, he does. 

But his heart is still beating.

And his skin finally fits just the way it’s supposed to. 

\--- 

They’re still clapping when Jens leaves the stage. He’s fucking exhausted, breathless and sweating, but he freezes when he sees Cecile. She’s staring at him, a few strands of hair hanging in her face, clutching a clipboard to her chest. He can’t read her face, and the dimness of the wings isn’t helping.

“Hi,” he tries, smiling nervously. 

“What the hell was that?” she asks sharply. 

“Uhm…” He looks away for a second, feeling his face heat up. He can’t bring himself to regret it, bad as he feels for disregarding her choreography. He steps closer. “I’m sorry, I just—” 

“That was incredible.” 

He stops, confused. Music starts to play loudly on stage as other dancers begin their routines, and Cecile grabs his arm, pulling him aside so they can hear each other.

“I— What?” 

“What _was_ that?” she says again, looking at him with wide eyes. Jens would think she looks awestruck f he didn’t know her better. “I mean, it was, like, ballet, and contemporary, and…” 

“I don’t know,” Jens says finally. “I was just…” he shrugs. 

“Incredible,” she repeats, shaking her head and looking at him, and yeah, maybe she _is_ awestruck. 

\--- 

Jens sits on the floor until the rest of the performances are over. He gets a few looks, but he’s so tired he can’t bring himself to care. He wants to take off his pointe shoes but he doesn’t, hitting his heels against the ground to give his toes space. He almost falls asleep, his back against a wall, until he hears Cecile’s voice call his name. 

He joins the other dancers on stage for the final bow, and he’s almost forgotten how bright the lights are. It’s also almost deafening. He hopes Lotte is okay. 

\--- 

Jens grabs his bag from backstage chatting idly with the other boys as he takes off his pointe shoes and puts them in the bag after taking out his hoodie, coat, and shoes. 

“I’m so hungry, dude,” one dancer said, stumbling as he pulls his leotard off his ankles where it had gotten caught, and there is a chorus of “Me too,” and “Same.” Jens sighs, stretching and popping his back before pulling on the hoodie.

“Jens, you’re not even gonna change?” someone asks, and Jens just gives him a blank look, making a few of them laugh. 

“I’m too tired,” he says, unfolding the hem of his hoodie at his hips. “I’ll change tonight. Maybe.” 

“This shit’s so uncomfortable, I don’t know how you can handle it.” 

Jens chuckled, watching another boy trip on his tights. 

“I think my exhaustion has reached the point of me no longer being in my body,” he says, gesturing to his body with a hand. “I’m completely numb. All I need is a nap. And dinner.” 

He carefully tucks his coat over his back so it doesn’t fall and, after sliding on his shoes and placing his pointe shoes in his bag, makes his way into the auditorium, using the handrail in the small, dark stairway that leads out from backstage. He winces for a second when he gets out of the stairway, startled by the bright overhead lights that came on after all the dancers had left the stage, and then he realises he doesn’t know where to go. 

His mom usually meets him here, but he doesn’t see her anywhere. And he doesn’t see the guys anywhere. 

But after he stands there for a second, wondering if he should fish his phone out of his bag to text someone, Lucas appears, looking lost. He has to pause on his way down, letting a parent pass him, and then his eyes catch on Jens, and they brighten. He’s holding a bouquet of roses, and Jens’s heart swells.

**LUCAS**

Lucas forgets what he was going to say to him. 

He steps closer to Jens, who’s standing at the bottom of the stage, holding the strap of his bag in his hand, and looking at Lucas like he just pulled the moon through a window. The makeup around his eyes is more smudged than it was when he was dancing like he’s absentmindedly rubbed at it. 

“Hi,” Jens says when they’re standing close to each other, and Lucas opens his mouth to respond but nothing comes out. After a few seconds of staring at Jens, who stares right back, he shoves the bouquet at him, looking at it before looking back to Jens with an almost hopeful expression. 

“I brought these for you,” he says.

“Thank you,” Jens says, taking them and smiling. 

“I—” Lucas cuts off, unsure of what to say, what to do. Jens seems different. A good different. A different that makes Lucas wants to pull him in by the strings of his hoodie and kiss him breathless.

They stare at each other for a few more seconds, save for Jens looking down at the roses happily, at the red ribbon tying them all together, and Lucas begins to smile. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks finally, and Jens just nods, looking relieved.

So he does, passing through the last few steps between them until Jens is close enough for Lucas to reach up and grab his face, pulling him down until their mouths crash together. He feels Jens’s arms wrap around his waist, the flowers bumping him accidentally, pulling closer until he’s on his tiptoes, Jens’s face between his palms as he bites Jens’s lip gently. Jens sighs, tilting his head, and Lucas pulls away, smiling as Jens chases him before opening his eyes. 

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until Jens sets him back down and lets go of his waist, reaching up with his free hand and gently wiping under his eye. 

“Don’t cry,” Jens says softly, smiling. “You’re gonna mess up your makeup.”

“Sorry,” Lucas chokes out, laughing lightly. “I’m just…” He reaches up and wipes his eye carefully, shrugging. 

“Just what?” Jens asks quietly. 

“Proud of you,” he whispers, and Jens smiles again, glancing down at his lips as he says it. 

“Come here,” Jens whispers back, and he pulls him in again, slipping a warm hand over Lucas’s neck, and Lucas smiles against his mouth. Jens’s fingers tangle in Lucas’s curls as Lucas pulls him closer, his hands squishing Jens’s cheeks. Jens sighs, still smiling, and Lucas feels the roses on his side as Jens’s hand moves.

“Did you like it?” Jens murmurs when they pull away, and whether he means the recital or the kiss, Lucas nods, leaning up again. Jens grins and kisses him gently. 

‘“Fucking phenomenal,” Lucas says softly, but when he opens his eyes, Jens is looking past him, over his shoulder. Lucas pauses, taking in his face, his lips pressed together in an awkward, suppressed smile, his brows raised. 

He turns, hesitantly, expecting maybe Robbe, but finds a middle-woman, making the same face as Jens, standing next to Lotte, who’s grasping a colourful bouquet in her hands. Lucas’s heart drops. He steps away from Jens, to his side, and looks back at the woman, who looks from him to Jens with just a hint of a smile on her face. 

As they stare in awkward, strained silence, Jens’s free hand finds Lucas’s. Lucas glances down, seeing Jens’s fingers twine with his, and he steps closer, holding onto Jens’s arm subconsciously with his free hand. Jens’s mom glances down at their hands before looking up at them again, opening her mouth and taking a breath. 

“Uhm…” 

“His name is Lucas,” Lotte says abruptly, and all three of them look at here. “He’s Dutch.”

Lucas can’t stop the smile spreading across his face.

“Lucas!” Jens’s mom says finally, stepping forward and holding a hand out. Lucas lets go of Jens’s arm and shakes her hand apprehensively. “So nice to meet you.” 

“It’s nice to meet you too,” he says awkwardly and she gives him a warm smile that lightens his heart a little. 

“Jens?” She looks at Jens and tilts her head. “A moment?” 

Jens sighs and nods, squeezing Lucas’s hand before letting go. Lucas watches as they step away, their backs to him, his heart beating fast. He swallows, taking a deep breath before looking at Lotte, who’s also watching them. 

“Hi,” he says. 

“Hi. Why are your shoes tall?” 

“Uh…” He looks down, lifting a foot so look at his shoes, a pair of black leather shoes with platform bottoms. “I like them,” he says. “And Jens doesn’t have to bend over too much to kiss me.” 

She nods. 

“He is tall,” she says, and Lucas hums in agreement. “We brought these for him.” She holds up the flowers, a bunch of vibrant Gerbera daisies, and Lucas smiles.

“Did you pick them out?”

“Mm… Kind of.” She looks at the flowers fondly. “I picked them a while ago and we get them for every recital he has.” 

“He must like them.” Lucas glances up to look at Jens and his mom. They’re too far away to hear, but they both look like they’re smiling. Jens is holding the roses to his chest. 

“We all do. Mommy puts them in a vase on the dinner table.” She pauses, looking at them. “I like how they feel.” She lifts a hand and rubs a petal lightly. 

“Can I?” Lucas says, and she nods, so he sits, making the seat creak as he pulls it down. He touches a petal that isn’t near her hand. 

“That _is_ nice,” he says, pulling his hand back. “Very soft. I want a blanket that feels like that.” Her eyes crinkle as she smiles. 

“I want a blanket that feels like a cat,” she says. 

“What kind of cat?” 

She shrugs, her eyes still trained on the flowers. 

“I don’t know, just a cat.” 

“Well you have to be specific,” Lucas says, tilting his head. “There are a million kinds of cats, you don’t want a blanket that feels like a hairless cat.” 

She looks up at him, furrowing her brow, looking a _lot_ like Jens, and it takes everything in Lucas not to grin. 

“A hairless cat?” 

“Yeah, a hairless cat. You’ve seen them, haven’t you?” 

“No,” she says sassily, and yeah, she’s definitely Jens’s sister. 

“You’ve never— Hang on.” Lucas shifts in his seat, pulling out his phone. 

**JENS**

“I just wish you would have told me sooner,” his mom is saying. “But it’s fine. We can invite him over for dinner sometime.” 

Jens suppresses a smile, twisting the flowers in his hand, and he glances to where Lucas is. He’s sitting on a seat, showing Lotte something on his phone. Suppression doesn’t work. He smiles. Then he looks up at him mom, who softens. 

“I love you,” she says.

“I love you too.” 

She looks over at Lucas and Lotte, and Jens follows her gaze, almost beaming. Lotte looks happy. Lucas is laughing. 

“Has she met him before?” his mom asks, and Jens sighs happily.

“Yeah.” 

“Why am I always the last to know things?” she huffs, and Jens snickers as they make their way back to them. 

“Hey,” he says softly as they approach them, and Lucas looks up, his eyes shining, his lips curved into a smile. 

“Hi,” he says, sounding cheerful.

“Mom, can we get a hairless cat?” Lotte asks. 

“What?” Jens and his mom say simultaneously, and Lucas lets out a giggle before covering his mouth and looking at Jens’s mom. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says. 

“Lotte, we’ll talk about this later,” she says to Lotte, and Lotte turns to Lucas, looking hopeful.

“That’s not a no,” she says, and Lucas laughs harder, looking at Jens as his mom lets out a “Hey!” 

“These are for you,” Lotte says, holding out the daisies, and Jens takes them, smiling. 

“Do you want to hold them?” he asks, and she immediately nods, holding her hands back out. She smiles when she’s holding them again, sniffing them lightly. “Do you want to hold these too?” he asks. “These are from Lucas.” 

She nods, looking up, and he hesitates, inspecting the stems. 

“There shouldn’t be any thorns,” Lucas says, seeing his pause, so Jens hands them to Lotte. She wraps her arms around both bouquets, looking happy. 

Jens reaches down, grabbing Lucas’s hand and pulling him so he stands, and the seat snaps shut. Lucas stands and Jens laces their fingers, brushing his thumb over the back of his hand. 

“So Lucas, Lotte says you’re Dutch?” Jens’s mom says after a moment.

“Uh, yes ma’am, I moved here from Utrecht,” Lucas says, and Jens can sense his nerves, so he squeezes his hand. “I live with my cousin, he’s a friend of Jens’s.” 

“Oh, is that how you met?” 

“Uhm…?” Lucas looks at Jens, laughter in his eyes. 

“Not exactly,” Jens says, but he’s interrupted by a loud “ _Jens!_ ” 

He turns to find Lens stalking down the walkway between seats, swinging her pointe shoes in her hand, followed by Rosa and Damien. 

“I’m going to go find Cecile,” his mom says, and Jens looks back at her. “Lotte, you coming?” 

“No, I wanna stay,” Lotte says softly, and her mom nods, smiling, before she steps away, her chin raised to try and see over peoples’ heads in the back of the auditorium. 

Jens looks back just in time to be shoved by Lena, and he’s already laughing. 

“What the fuck _was_ that?” she asks aggressively, and then her shoulder is shoved by Rosa. 

“ _Lena!_ ”

“What?” 

Lena sticks a hand out to Lotte, whose face is half-buried in the flowers, but her broad, amused grin can still be seen. 

“Oh shit, sorry, honey. Ah fuck. Oh shit. Oh my—”

“Stop talking,” Jens interrupts before Rosa can send a slap to Lena’s head, and he steps forward, letting go of Lucas’s hand and pulls her into a hug. She wraps her arms around him, jumping up.

“That was— incredible!” she exclaims, and Jens laughs lightly into her neck, knowing she made a conscious effort to exclude _fucking_ from the sentence. She pulls away and grabs his chin with her hand, turning it while studying his face. “And your makeup held up well!”

“You did it, right?” Lucas asks from behind him, and Jens lets go of her waist, stepping back and taking Lucas’s hand again. 

“Yeah, did Jens tell you?” 

Jens glances at Lotte and he catches her waving at Damien, who gives her a silly wink. Jens smiles. 

“No, I just assumed because it’s dark and dramatic.” 

Rosa lets out an “Ooooh…” and Damien gasps, looking back and forth between Lucas and Lena. Jens presses his lips together, trying not to laugh. 

“I’m not even offended, that’s a compliment,” Lena says finally, and Lucas laughs, holding a hand out, and Lena slaps their palms together before fist-bumping him. Jens rolls his eyes, smiling. 

“Oh, I see Sander,” Lucas says before Jens can say anything, and he lifts his hand and waves. 

“Sander?” Damien asks, voicing Lena and Rosa’s questions as well, the three of them with identical confused expressions. 

“Yeah, uh…” He sighs, glancing in the direction Lucas is looking and seeing a flash of white hair as Sander grabs Robbe’s hand and pats Moyo’s shoulder before making their way down the walkway. “You’re about to meet some of my friends.” 

Damien gasps again, slapping his hands over his mouth. 

“Are you for real?” he asks, leaning forward, feigning shock, and Jens kicks him gently. 

“Shut up.” 

“That was incredible, dude,” Robb says when they reach him, ignoring everyone else’s presence and letting go of Sander’s hand to hug Jens. 

“Thanks, Robbe,” he says, wrapping his arms around him and burying his face in his neck. He feels strangely relieved. 

“That was the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Aaron says after Robbe and Jens let go of each other, and Jens snorts, wrapping an arm around Lucas’s shoulders. 

“You have a girlfriend,” Sander reminds him, raising his eyebrows, and Aaron stares blankly at Jens, who tries desperately not to laugh, wincing at Aaron and grinning.

“That was the second prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” he says finally, and Sander slaps him on the shoulder. 

“Anyway. Don’t you all look nice and spiffy,” Jens said, reaching out and tugging the lapel of Moyo’s jacket. 

“Yeah, bro, I told you, I’m classy.” 

“Clearly.” 

“Jens,” Lena says, looking at him intently, expectantly, and Lucas snickers quietly, elbowing him in the side. 

“Oh, sorry, uhm…” He takes a deep breath. “This is Moyo, Aaron, Sander, and Robbe.” He points at all of them as he says their names. “And this is Lena, Damien, Rosa. And you know Lotte,” he adds, gesturing at her with a jerk of his chin. They all wave. 

“Jens, honestly I was beginning to doubt if you even had friends,” Lena says, breaking the ice. Moyo lets out an “Oof…” and Jens nods. 

“There is it,” he mutters, and Lucas giggles, wrapping an arm around his waist and tugging him closer. 

“I saw you guys up there, too,” Robbe says, nodding at Damien and Rosa, who are standing closer to each other than they should be. (Jens wants to reach out and push Rosa so she falls against him.) “You were amazing.” 

“Thank you,” Rosa says sweetly. 

“How long have you been doing ballet?” Sander asks, draping an arm across Robbe’s shoulder and Robbe leans into him, seemingly without even thinking about it. 

“Oh gosh…” Rosa says, sighing and smiling happily. “As long as I can remember?”

“I started when I was seven,” Damien says. 

“I was four,” Lena adds with finger guns. Aaron does it back, and Lena laughs with delight as Jens shakes his head. 

“Jens!” Jens’s mom’s voice calls from up the walkway, and he looks up. There are significantly fewer people, a few families dawdling on their way outside, and his mom is standing next to Cecile, another woman and a man, dressed in elegant grey suits. He sighs nervously and Lucas squeezes him.

“They’re probably gonna get on me for messing up the choreography,” he says, taking a deep breath and letting his arm fall from Lucas’s shoulder. 

“You messed up the choreography?” Aaron asks, and Jens pauses on his way to the walkway to send him a look. 

“Big-time,” Lena says behind him. “Threw it out the window.”

**LUCAS**

Lucas hears the others start to chat again but he’s not listening. He just watching Jens make his way to his mother, clutching the strap of his bag with both hands in nervousness. Lucas sighs, fidgeting with his fingers, rubbing the polish of his nails, wishing he could go with him. 

Jens’s back is to him and he can’t read his face. 

So Lucas tries to tune back into the conversation in front of him. Jens will tell him what’s going on later.

Lucas turns slightly to face his friends more, watching as Lena cackles and high-fives Moyo, not knowing why, and he smiles. He looks past them all and sees Lotte sitting on one of the seats, looking down at the flowers. 

“Lotte!” he calls, just loud enough for her to hear him, and she looks up. “You okay?” 

She nods, her expression light, before she gets up and goes around the group of teenagers to stand at his side, and then she looks up at him. 

“Can you pick me up?” she asks, and Lucas pauses, surprised. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

He bends down and she lifts her arms, carefully clutching the flowers so she doesn’t drop them, and when he rises he places her on his hip, both arms wrapped around her. Her dress is soft and he adjusts it so it isn’t riding up. 

“It’s not too loud for you?” he asks her softly, tilting his head. 

“Not anymore,” she says. “It was when they were clapping but I was ready.” 

“I’m glad,” Lucas says, jostling her affectionately.

He glances back up to where Jens is. He still can’t tell what’s going on, whether it’s positive or negative. 

“That’s my _shit_ , dude!” Lena exclaims, grabbing Moyo’s shoulder and pushing him as he laughs, her voice startling Lucas back into the environment. 

“Lena!” Rosa, Damien, and Robbe say accusatorily, and she claps a hand over her mouth, turning to where Lucas is holding Lotte. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says to Lotte, letting the hand fall, and Lotte giggles.

“I might need you to cover your ears,” Lucas tells her.

“No, it’s funny!” 

“Oh, my god, I love you, Lotte,” Lena says, laughing. 

“You’re not allowed to say anything Lena says, you know that, right?” Lucas asks.

“I know,” she responds sassily, making Lena burst out with laughter again.

**JENS**

“What?” Jens asks dumbly after a moment of staring blankly at the man in grey. He feels his mom run over the top of his back and he leans into it.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” he says, smiling. “We’d just like you to think about it.”

“I— Yeah— Uhm…” He shakes his head, trying to put together a cohesive sentence, but the man seems to understand, and he holds out a business card to Jens between two fingers. Jens didn’t even see him take it out of his pocket. He glances at his mom before taking it gently, smiling as he looks down at it and reads it. 

“Well, we’d best be off,” the woman in the suit says. She shakes Cecile’s hand, and then Jens’s mom’s, and then holds her hand out to Jens. He puts the card in his pocket and takes her hand, still speechless. She smiles warmly at him. “We hope to hear from you soon.” 

She nods, still smiling, when he just stares at her, and then the man shakes his hand, and then they leave. And Jens just stands there, his hand still raised in the air, until his mom’s arms wrap around him and pull him close. She’s laughing. 

“I have to go see some parents before they leave, but…” Cecile turns and points at Jens as she starts to walk away. “You’ll text me later, right?” 

“I— Yeah,” he says, dropping his hands and shaking his head, reaching up and holding his mom’s arm that’s across his chest. 

She points at him one more time, grinning, and then turns to jog up the walkway to where some families are. 

“So?” his mom asks when Cecile is out of sight. “What are you thinking?”

He turns to face her and wraps his arms around her, lifting her up slightly, and she laughs, pressing a kiss to his cheek. 

“I don’t know,” he says, setting her down and stepping back to look at her. “I’m gonna think about it, but I…” He shakes his head in disbelief and she smiles, nodding. 

“Take your time, sweetheart. Go see your friends.” She nods in the direction of all of them, and Jens turns to look. 

Sander’s arm is still draped around Robbe’s shoulders and Robbe is leaning into him. He can hear them laughing and can see Lena saying something dramatically to Moyo. Lucas is holding Lotte, and she’s holding the flowers, looking at Lena, smiling. He can hear Damien laughing. 

All of his worlds, colliding. 

And everything is okay. 

Everything is perfect.

He stands there, looking, and wraps his arm around his mom again, pulling her closer. 

“What’s up?” she asks, looking up at him, and he shakes his head, his mouth twisting into a smile. 

He shrugs. 

“I’m happy,” he says finally. 

“Well, let’s go be happy over there. I think it’s almost time to go home.” 

“Oh, uhm…” he stops her as she steps forward, grabbing her arm gently and pulling her back. She looks at him. “Would it… be okay if Lucas and I go to get something to eat? I didn’t eat before the recital, I was too nervous.” 

She sighs, turning back to where Lucas is holding Lotte, the both of them laughing and whatever Lena’s saying now. 

“Yes,” she says, looking back at him. “That’s fine.” 

He grins, pulling her into another tight hug, squeezing her, and she groans. 

“And because I know you want to ask but you aren’t going to, yes, he can sleep over if he wants to.” 

“Oh,” he says, letting her push him away so her face isn’t burning in his chest. “I wasn’t even thinking about that, but thanks.” 

She rolls her eyes and tugs at his arm. 

“Come on.” 

When they approach Jens’s friends, his mom calls Lotte’s name and she looks up at them over the flowers. 

“It’s time to go home.” 

Lotte pouts. 

“But I’m having fun,” she says. 

“You’re not going to have fun tomorrow morning when you’re too sleepy to do anything,” Jens says, and Lucas puts her down, letting her slide out of his arms. Lotte sighs and Jens crouches down to whisper to her. 

“I’ll bring you something for breakfast, okay?”

She beams brightly and nods. 

“Come on, you can help me put the flowers in a vase when we get home,” their mom says and Lotte adjusts her grip on the bouquets, carefully looking around them as they go up the walkway. “It was nice meeting you, Lucas!” she calls out, turning to wave, and Lucas waves back. 

“I think I should go too,” Rosa says as Lotte and their mom disappear from view. “My parents are probably waiting in the parking lot for me.” She leans up and kisses Lucas’s and Jens’s cheeks before hugging the guys and Lena. “Walk me out?” she asks Damien, and his cheeks flush red as he stammers, “Oh! Yeah, of course!” 

Jens drapes an arm around Lucas’s shoulders as they watch them leave, hearing Lena squeal as Rosa holds Damien’s hand. 

“If they don’t kiss outside, I’m gonna lose my shit,” she says, and the guys laugh. 

“They are dating right?” Robbe asks. 

“Not officially, no,” Lucas sighs. “They both adamantly refuse to acknowledge their feelings for each other.” 

“Ridiculous,” Moyo says. 

“Okay, it is actually kind of late,” Lena says, looking at her phone screen. “I should go too.” She kisses them all on the cheek before going up the walkway, walking backwards to talk to them. 

“I’m expecting all of your social media, that YouTube channel that Jens has told me _nothing_ about—” Jens groans “Oh, my god” and Lucas giggles next to him— “Invitations to your birthday parties, _and_ —” She points at Sander and Robbe— “an invitation to your wedding.” 

Sander laughs, rolling his eyes, and Robbe scoffs, laying his head on Sander’s chest. 

“Bye, Lena!” Moyo calls.

“Bye-bye, love you all!” She blows kisses and turns on her heel to make it all the way up the walkway, narrowly missing the armrest of a seat with her leg. 

“She’s actually really sweet,” Moyo says. 

“Yeah, once you get past her proclivity to be a nuisance,” Jens says. “She actually helps me calm down before recitals when I’m anxious. And she was the one to kind of adopt Rosa when she started here.”

Aaron’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out as Jens presses a kiss to Lucas’s temple. He’s wearing platforms, Jens notices when he doesn’t have to bend down. 

“Shit, my mom’s texting me, I have to go,” Aaron says, and holds a hand out to Lucas. As they shake, Jens looks past them, seeing that there’s almost no one left in the theatre. 

“We should probably all go, actually, I think they’re closing soon,” he says.

When they get outside it’s dark. The stars are shining dimly, and in the light from the auditorium, Jens can just barely see his breath. Lucas holds his bag as he puts on his coat.

Jens hugs all of them, telling them he’ll see them later. Moyo walks in a different direction than the rest of them, and Aaron has to unchain his bike. 

“I’ll give you your jacket on Monday,” he calls to Moyo before leaving, and Moyo gives him a thumbs up. 

“So,” Lucas says when they’re gone, turning to face Jens and putting his arms on his shoulders. “What happened?” 

“Hm?” 

“With those people. Talking to you and Cecile? And your mom?” 

**LUCAS**

Jens immediately looks away, his arms wrapping around Lucas’s waist, grinning. 

“Well?” Lucas prompts, shaking him slightly. 

“They, uhm… They said it was good,” Jens says, and then smiles again, biting his lip. 

“Okay…” 

Jens gazes at him for a second and then drops his arms, stepping back so Lucas’s arms fall, and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a small card and holds it out to Lucas. Lucas takes it, holding it up in the light to read it, a name, a number, an email. He flips it over, finding the back blank, and scans the front again. 

“What’s this?” he asks, looking up, but he finds Jens’s eyes shining, his hand covering his mouth. 

“What’s wrong?” Lucas almost drops the card, lifting a hand and setting it on Jens’s face, gently brushing over his cheek, but Jens shakes his head and lowering his hand, revealing a small smile. 

“They— They want me to be in the Nutcracker next year,” he says, his voice breaking. Lucas freezes, his hand stopping on Jens’s cheek, and Jens chokes out a little laugh. 

“What?” 

“Yeah,” Jens says, nodding, and he steps closer. “They want me to be in the Nutcracker next year.”

Lucas’s hand claps over his mouth, and he looks back and forth between Jens’s eyes, seeing tears gather. 

“Shut up!” he says, dropping his hand, and Jens laughs, shaking his head. “Are you serious?” 

“I am,” Jens says, and his voice breaks. 

“What did you say?” Lucas asks, handing the card back and watching as Jens puts it in his pocket. 

“Nothing, I— I kinda blanked,” Jens says, and Lucas can see that his cheeks are glowing red in the patchy light from the theatre. “They told me to think about it.”

“What are you thinking?” 

Jens takes a deep breath, hunching his shoulders slightly, smiling as he looks at Lucas, his eyes sparkling. 

“I think I wanna do it.” 

Lucas beams from the inside out, reaching out and pulling Jens into a hug. Jens laughs, wrapping his arms around his waist and lifting him up. 

“Oh, my god, baby…” Lucas says as Jens sets him down, and he presses his hands to Jens’s face, his index fingers sliding behind his ears and pulling him into a kiss. His cheeks are still warm. “I’m so excited for you.” 

Jens smiles and tugs at his waist, pulling him into another kiss, before Lucas pulls away and pushes Jens’s hair back. It’s not as soft as usual, a little stiff with gel, but it won’t stay where he puts it, and he smiles. 

“So how is this happening? Is it your studio that’s putting it on next year?” he asks. 

“No, they’re getting people from a bunch of different studios,” Jens says. “They said they want it to be all teenagers and kids. Budding artists.”

Lucas pulls him closer, kissing his cheek and then his mouth, softly biting his bottom lip, and Jens sighs, lifting a hand and running his fingers through Lucas’s curls. Lucas can feel his smile against his mouth. 

“Do you wanna celebrate with me?” Jens asks. 

“How?” Lucas asks quietly after kissing him again. 

“I don’t know, do you want to get chips or something? And I told Lotte I’d bring her something, so maybe a stop at a convenience store?” 

“Yeah,” Lucas says, and kisses him once more before letting go and taking his hand. 

“She loves you, by the way,” Jens says as they make their way down a sidewalk. “Lotte.” 

Lucas smiles, looking up at the sky, the starlight and city light. Jens puts their clasped hands in his coat pocket, gently brushing his thumb over Lucas’s hand. 

“I love her, too,” Lucas says. “She’s so sweet.” 

“She likes to make fun of me,” Jens says, and Lucas laughs. 

“Everyone likes to make fun of you,” Lucas tells him. 

“Is that why you like her? You just need someone else to roast me with?” 

“Baby, you know I don’t have to look far for someone to roast you with.” 

“Okay—” 

Lucas interrupts him by giggling and tugging at his arm, stopping in the sidewalk to kiss him softly, 

He waits outside as Jens goes into a convenience store to get something for Lotte. When he comes out, he’s putting into his ballet bag. 

“Do you know what role they want you to have?” Lucas asks as they start down the road again. 

“Uh… They may have mentioned the prince…” 

Lucas stops, staring at Jens with wide eyes, and Jens walks past him for a few steps before turning, a broad smile having crawled across his face. 

“You’re kidding me,” Lucas says, and Jens shakes his head. Lucas lets out a “ _Jens!_ ” and crosses the distance between them, jumping on Jens’s back. Jens laughs and he grabs Lucas’s arms. 

“You didn’t think to mention that to me?” 

“I forgot!” 

“What _ever_.” 

Lucas slides off his back and steps to his side, grabbing his hand. 

“My boyfriend, the prince,” he says proudly.

\---

**JENS**

“Oh, wait!” Jens exclaims, dropping the plastic fork in his bowl. He stops Lucas walking by grabbing his arm gently, and steps forward, glancing up and down the street. It’s empty, and the asphalt is reflecting streetlamps and stoplights. Jens steps away from Lucas, pulling the strap of his bag over his head and he sets it on the sidewalk. 

“Come here,” he says, bending over and placing his bowl on his bag. Lucas watches him curiously, confused, but copies him, setting his bowl next to Jens and pausing to make sure it doesn’t tip over. 

“What are we doing?” Lucas asks as Jens grabs his hand, pulling him into the street. 

Jens doesn’t respond, instead just pulling him closer as they approach the middle of the street and kissing him. Lucas’s arms come around Jens’s neck with hesitation as Lucas tilts his head, and Jens lifts him again, spinning him in a circle. Lucas squeals, tangling his fingers in Jens’s hair as Jens sets him down, lifting a hand to brush Lucas’s curls out of his face. 

Then he kisses him again. 

Just because he can.

\-- the end --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you sososo much for staying w me while i wrote this; it means so much to me <3
> 
> playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6RAzikQtYpTCOX6jcoMU0K  
> pinboard: https://www.pinterest.jp/ghosttotheparty/say-my-name-and-say-it-twice/

**Author's Note:**

> My socials! Hit me up if you wanna talk or be friends :)  
> Tumblr: @ghosttotheparty and @tiireeddd  
> Instagram: @tiireeddd and @h.anadraws
> 
> SMNaSIT Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6RAzikQtYpTCOX6jcoMU0K


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